Chapter 12 - Parker

The world was a blur, and nausea crawled up from my stomach like the worst hangover. I was just standing there. My dad…had just tried to hit me—again. Lev had…

My mind spun, and I fell to my knee, the pain rebounding up my legs as I hit the marble floor. It was all too much. He'd sold me to some mobster to pay his debts. He didn't care at all. He'd just been angry. So damn angry. Like he always was. Another cold fact slapped me across the face all over again.

"Oh God, did he kill my mother?" I sounded small, my voice no stronger than a child's.

My stomach heaved, and I doubled over as it clenched down. There was nothing to throw up, so I just seized up, gagging.

At once, hands were around me, and I was being hauled to my feet, taken somewhere that wasn't the room I was in.

"What's…?"

I looked down at the hand gripping me and then followed the arms up to Lev's face. He wore a cold mask of impassiveness, but something dark lingered in the depths of his eyes. It was too familiar, too like my father.

"Stop!"

Lev halted, snapping his eyes down to me as he pulled to a stop in the hallway. His jaw worked as he clenched it hard, and the grip of his fingers bit into my arm.

"I need a moment. I don't…" I tried to breathe around a sob that made my throat ache. "Can I have a moment alone?"

Licking his lips as he stared down at the floor, Lev sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he spun me around, facing me toward the familiar door at the end of the hall.

"Go in the bedroom." He moved past me in confident, powerful strides. "I'll deal with the mess."

I wanted to stop him, to keep him from starting more trouble with my father, but some part of me knew it wouldn't do any good. And still, another part, one that was far darker and usually kept locked away, wanted Lev to do what he clearly did best—and take care of Pavel once and for all.

A wave of nausea washed over me again, causing me to rush down the hallway and into the bedroom. Flinging the door wide, I dashed inside and pulled the chaise near the door to block it. I couldn't lock the damn thing, and I wasn't about to let someone come in—not now. Not with all this.

Momentum carried me to the bed, where I collapsed against the smooth fabric. It was still so damn comfortable, not the cardboard mattresses I was used to. I smashed my fist down into the downy comforter, wishing it did anything to ease the ache screaming from within my ribs.

The tears started then, and I couldn't be bothered to care.

It had been stupid to hope that my father cared about me and loved me, after all the evidence to the contrary, and now, after all this, I really couldn't deny it anymore.

"Stupid prick," my words were muffled by the covers and sobs racking my chest.

The world slowly began to come back to its usual pace and level of focus. I sat up, scrubbing the tears off my face, and looked around the pristine room. It was so damn extravagant. A four-poster bed? Who had those things?

The ceilings were even vaulted, a painting or wallpaper mural set into the high curves. It was some Renaissance art piece, like at the Sistine Chapel, but there certainly weren't any angels around. Deep wood accents around the corners and trim, even the floor, where it wasn't covered by thick, expensive-looking rugs.

It was all so clearly not my apartment, and this was all so clearly not my life—not the one I thought it was anyway.

"Lev." My mind splintered, thinking back to his words.

I think you'll find Pavel that touching what's mine will cost you your life.

His. He had claimed ownership of me and, in the same breath, made it clear that he would harm my father if he even dared to try touching me. Where had that kind of protector been when I was growing up? I could've really used it back then.

Frustrated, impotent rage swam through my blood. I'd never been able to do anything, never stood up to my father, and Lev had done it without blinking.

"No one has ever done that for me before." I thought back to my mom, a new sob taking me. "Not since…Oh my God, he really did it. Pavel killed her."

My body couldn't settle on what to feel. Hell, it couldn't decide on a temperature, an overwhelming heat suffusing me. I tore off the thin jacket, flinging it to the bed as I began to pace the room. The sound of my boots on the floor clacked loudly, and I tried to focus on the rhythm.

A panic attack was right on the edge, and I did not want to deal with that.

"Okay, what's in front of you? Just deal with what's in front of you. One problem at a time. Start with the most severe."

I repeated the coaching of my attendings. Their guidance on handling the worst cases at the ER, how to stabilize each area and each person, according to what was the most concerning.

"You need to get out of here. One. That's the most pressing thing. The rest can be dealt with later." I shook my head. "And after a lot of therapy."

I walked to the door, pulling the chaise back across the floor. It proved to be much more difficult this time since I wasn't hopped up on the adrenaline that had been helping me. Still, I was able to get it back in place without hurting myself. I went back to the door, a trickle of excitement blooming through me that I hadn't heard the lock click into place.

Trying the handle, it turned. I could leave. I could get out of this damn house if I was careful enough. Using every amount of steady control I could muster, I opened the door, cautious of any creaks it might make. I stuck my head out into the hall and looked both ways; there was no one on guard.

My heart pounded as I stepped into the open and closed up the bedroom behind me, holding the knob turned so that it wouldn't make a sound as I let the door close again.

"Holy shit. I'm out."

I kept my voice low and crept down the hall slowly, searching for any other exit aside from the main entrance where I'd just been taken. I couldn"t take that approach. There were bound to be people around there.

Just as I turned down another hall on the top floor that seemed to lead to another wing of the house, I heard a loud boom come from downstairs. I'd never heard one, to be certain, but something told me that wasn't a firework.

"Gunshot."

A chorus of yells erupted from down the main stairs, back where I'd argued with my father. I froze in place. There was some kind of fight going on. It would make the perfect distraction to try and escape.

"Leave, Parker. Just go."

A distinctly pained shout came up from the lower level. Someone was injured. Probably many people were injured. They would need a doctor if a gun was involved, or any type of weapon for that matter. I was a doctor or the closest thing they were going to get to one.

I stood at the top of the stairs unmoving for what felt like years, and then I took off running toward the main entrance.