Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Before she can shut the door, I grab hold of her from behind, quickly locking my arm around her upper body. I press my other hand to her forehead, pinning her to me so she won’t hurt herself.
When Dr. Pires hurries to get an injection, I say, “No. No more. Leave the room and lock the door.”
“Are you sure?”
Ciara struggles with all her might, and it has me snapping, “Leave.”
Dr. Pires hurries out of the hospital room, and when I hear the door shut and the lock engages, I quickly let go of Ciara and step away from her.
She darts away from me, and coming to a stop on the other side of the room, she wildly glances around before dropping down and crawling beneath the bed.
Christ. My heart.
I move backward to give her space, then take a seat on the cold floor before leaning against the wall. Tilting my head, I look at the frightened woman.
“You’re safe, Ciara. No one is going to hurt you.”
She nervously glances at me, then curls into a small ball, pressing her face to her knees and wrapping her arms around her shins.
“I’m Santiago Castro,” I say again because I don’t think she’s retained any of the information I’ve given her the past week. “I have a big property here in Peru where I’ve created a village for people like you. People who have suffered too much and have nowhere to go.”
We sit in silence for a long while, and every few minutes, she peeks at me before hiding her face again.
“Carmen, one of the women I saved, gave birth to a son three months ago. Thiago is so cute. I think you’ll love him.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “He loves sleeping in my arms.”
She peeks at me again, but this time, her eyes flick to the bathroom as well.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask.
Slowly, she nods, her movements jerky and tense.
I’ll just have to break down the door if she locks herself in there.
Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.
I gesture at the open door. “You can go at any time.”
She places her hand on the floor and cautiously begins to drag herself out from under the bed.
Wanting to see what she’ll do, I stop looking at her and pull my phone out of my pocket.
Santiago: Bring a bowl of chicken soup to Ciara’s room. Knock on the door, then leave it outside on the floor.
I send the text to Dr. Pires, then just keep staring at my phone while I listen to Ciara slowly moving toward the bathroom.
When she suddenly darts inside, I remain sitting, but I’m surprised when she doesn’t shut the door.
I listen as she relieves her bladder, but a few seconds later, a soft sob has my head snapping up.
Climbing to my feet, I walk closer to the door and ask, “Are you okay, Ciara?”
Her breaths become audible, and when it sounds like she’s hyperventilating, I rush into the bathroom.
Ciara’s still sitting on the toilet, her arms wrapped around her middle and her eyes squeezed shut.
I take hold of her shoulders and help her up into a standing position before I crouch down to pull her panties up her legs.
When I straighten out again, I wrap my arms around her and press her face to my chest.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re safe, mi pequeño sol.”
I just hold her, repeating the words until she finally begins to calm down on her own.
That’s a step in the right direction.
A knock at the door has her yanking free from my hold and running to hide under the bed again.
I open the door, and seeing Dr. Pires holding the tray with the soup, I raise an eyebrow at her.
She peeks into the room, then whispers, “How is she doing?”
“It’s touch and go.” I take the tray from her and say, “You can lock the door again.”
“Call me if you need me.”
I nod and watch as she pulls the door shut before locking it.
Carrying the tray to the bed, I crouch and set it down on the floor before slowly pushing it closer to Ciara, where she’s still under the bed.
Without a word, I get up and walk to the armchair. I sit down, and with a clear view of the tray, I wait to see what will happen.
I check the time on my wristwatch and sit still for thirty minutes. When Ciara doesn’t touch the soup, I get up again and sit down on the floor beside the bed.
Leaning down, I look at her. “You haven’t had solid food for a while. Aren’t you hungry?”
Her chin begins to quiver, her eyes darting between me and the tray.
“You can eat,” I murmur in case she needs permission.
We sit like this for another ten minutes before she pulls herself out from under the bed, then she moves into a kneeling position and opens her mouth.