"They're going to kill you, you know."
I had a love-hate relationship with medical professionals. My earliest memories are riddled with doctor's visits, medical machinery, needles, and tests. Too many tests. Medical curiosity would drive doctors to use any complicated, high-tech machine to beep a new answer about my abnormality. They were arrogant, self-righteous, and irritatingly benevolent.
But Dr. Moore was growing on me.
"After they kill me," I continued, eyeing the doctor. He raised his eyebrows, full and dark, mimicking listening as if the meaning of my words had no impact. More casually, I added, "at least that's what they do with all the receptionists."
He stepped back and wrote something down with a small smile hiding on his cheeks. His white coat was pristine as ever. Each wrinkle had been professionally pressed and tailored to the physician's fit form. The man belonged on a billboard. But somehow, his life had taken him to this small, hospital-like room the Volturi had constructed for emergencies in the castle. For me. Aside from the stone walls and lack of windows, it felt nearly identical to any doctor's office. Complete with a nurse's station and rolling chair.
"Okay, either you have an impeccable bedside manner," he did, but that was beside the point. "Or you know something that I don't." Which would not be the most inconceivable possibility.
He chuckled, "your Masters and I have an understanding."
"They're not my masters."
Dr. Moore acknowledged my statement, returning his stethoscope around his neck. "Do you know how they found me?"
"An American doctor in Italy that happens to be qualified enough to take care of nearly any injury I might have? No." He chuckled while I stared at him with stunned curiosity. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a unicorn."
"We have a mutual friend."
"You and me?" He confirmed with a nod, securing the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm. "I doubt that."
The man's bedside manner afforded him a polite chuckle, "when Carlisle told me of your unique condition, I was intrigued."
Typically, I might've responded with a sassy comment suggesting that he was far from being the only person to be curious about my condition. Instead, I was stuck on, "Carlisle offered you up to be murdered by a bunch of vampires?"
He relieved me of the uncomfortable pressure, returning the blood pressure machine and turning to the table to write another mysterious sentence about my likely unchanged blood pressure level.
Dr. Moore was a handsome man with thick brows and eyes that sparkled when he smiled. His hair was graciously cut on the sides and back of his head but faded the closer it got to his forehead. I blinked, my eyes leaving his head as he sat on his little rolling desk chair and faced me for a bedtime story. He usually worked as I berated him with questions and comments, but this new story tactic of his would take longer. I could practically hear Jane rolling her eyes on the other side of the door.
"We had not spoken for several years, yet I felt the need to inform my old friend that I had cancer, and six months to live." Unlike his response to my blunt words earlier, I gaped at his words. Well played, Dr. Moore. "A fortuitous decision, as the last thing I expected him to do was offer me a job opportunity."
Still, I rolled my eyes and tried to collect my dignity, "you're joking."
A smile crossed over his full lips as he chuckled, "he said I'd be living in a remote city in Florence, necessities paid for, and vineyards for miles. All I had to do was take care of a girl."
He made it all sound so simple, and his kind tone made me return to the smart-ass voice of a teenager. "And when they said state-of-the-art equipment, like any bleeding heart doctor, you said..."
Dr. Moore made me feel normal again. He took my sass and elegantly returned it to me with a fluency that was impossible not to admire.
"I'll open a practice." He shot me a grin, a kind of smoulder, and I couldn't help but return it with a small one of my own. In a surprisingly charitable action, the Volturi had allowed the physician to open a private practice treating the citizens of Volterra, naturally placing my ailments above any other if circumstances required. One downside to my escape's aftermath and resulting events was that my regular visits with the doctor were now confined to the castle. I had enjoyed the excursions to Doctor Moore's small clinic in the city.
The Volturi had filled the small office space with essential equipment and a few of Carlisle's suggested machines worth millions of dollars. Just in case I had a minor accident. I devolved to sarcasm in defense, but in all honesty, if I so much as tripped and fell, I had to be subjected to a battery of tests. While I hadn't been the safest over the last several months, common accidents such as this were easily interrupted by the annoyingly speedy supernatural beings surrounding me. Still, I could not emphasize enough just how lucky I was to be alive.
"Of course you did." I sighed, and he remained amused by my airy disposition. "So, why were you in Italy if you're from America?"
He smiled, "I followed a girl."
"You're a romantic." My doctor hummed, taunting my curiosity before moving on as he returned to his clipboard. As if he didn't have the checklist memorized by now.
"How have you been sleeping?"
"Fine." I was nonchalant. It was supposed to be a standard question.
He raised a single eyebrow and a naturally genuine voice, calmly prompting me to tell him something more. As if he expected something specific. "Just fine?"
I tilted my head, "now you definitely know something I don't."
He nodded a few times, watching me for any signs of disclosure before sharing, "Jane says you've been having bad dreams."
A giggle burst past my lips, an automatic response. "I think I'd know if I was having nightmares. Wait – Jane said?" Jane, who stood right outside the door waiting (impatiently, no doubt), had not said a word about my sleeping habits. She mainly left me to my own devices over the last two days, seeing as I had two additional guards and had permanently moved back to my original room. However, I had been painting quite a bit later into the night. I was still unnerved by my last conversation with Alec, and it kept me up as a bothersome intrusion. "When did Jane–?"
He gave me a disarming yet stern look at the same time—a talent of his. I groaned, biting my lip and thinking. "I mean, sure, fine. I've been a little more tired than usual, but–"
"And were you going to share this with me?" This is why I didn't like doctors. The last thing I wanted was another lecture about taking care of myself, and his knowing frown did little to lessen my attitude. Like he expected better of me, or he believed I was capable of 'more'.
Shrugging, "it wasn't relevant."
He wrote something on his stupid clipboard, but I could see his eyebrows furrow with apprehension. The brief silence held a tension I was eerily familiar with. Dr. Moore appeared to be deciding whether or not to ask me a follow-up question, finally looking up and asking, "any headaches?"
I was firm. "No."
It was like a dance, a pattern, and a repetition of no, no, no. "Any low thoughts or sudden bouts of sadness?"
"Anyone ever tell you, you're kinda nosy." I huffed, and my rude tone took our slightly improved relationship for a turn to the worse.
His eyebrows rose once more. "It is my job," he tried reminding me gently.
"Right, well, I don't have any delusions, so no need to pre-screen for schizophrenia." I snapped harshly. Dr. Moore had never asked for details about my mother's condition, but it wasn't like he needed any yet. I was too young to experience symptoms, technically. Still, I gave my worry away by bringing it up. "We done?"
"Actually, no." I clamped my mouth shut, succumbing to the authority of his position. "But I am concerned about your psychological health. You have had several life changes and traumatic experiences alone in the last few months."
I scoffed, "I'm not crazy." He gave me a smile out of pity. I couldn't tell if he was being sympathetic or conniving, but I decided I didn't like either. "No hallucinations, either."
He didn't move or even seem to take offense, but he was no longer smiling. "How would you know?"
I did a double-take. "Sorry?"
"How would you know if you were having hallucinations?" My mouth opened and closed before I slumped back, and he offered in a genuine tone, "It also seems like you've been avoiding your friends."
Scoffing, I crossed my arms and dropped dramatically back into the chair. I was hardly avoiding anyone. I said no to Mario Kart once, and suddenly Felix was running to my physician.
He added, "and your emotions."
"Little late to that news flash, Doc."
Doctor Moore kept quiet this time, so my fingers grasped the cotton, silk like fabric of Alec's jumper from behind me. I had stolen the material so long ago that I no longer processed the original owner, and I sent a fake smile at the physician. I repeated, "are we done?"
He watched me still, as if he knew something I did not.
"I'm not crazy." I'm not sure which of us I was assuring.
"You're not," he agreed, but he was probably waiting for me to spill my guts about my fears and doubts.
Great. "This was lovely." Doctor Moore didn't find my comment as funny as I did. "Can't wait to do this again for six months." My fingers hardly wrapped around the doorknob when his voice corrected me.
"Five."
"Huh?"
He looked up from his clipboard, a soft expression making me doubt myself. "It's been a month since my diagnosis. Five remain."
My grip tightened, wanting nothing more than to yank the door open and run from the room. I paused, "I'm sorry you're dying."
"You have been through a great deal in the last several months," and I don't know why I waited, but I wish I had walked right out the door. His words would haunt me in the coming weeks. "The world will wait for you to breathe."
What the hell-o kind of hipster, tree-hugging, free-loving kind of prophecy was that supposed to be?
"Have a good afternoon, Saffiya."
"You too." I hate doctors.
The guard outside the door entered the room after me, likely to escort the doctor out of the castle. Jane stood down the hall and uncrossed her arms as I continued past her. She easily fell into step with me.
"You didn't think to tell me I was tossing and turning in my sleep?"
Jane shrugged emotionlessly. "You know now."
I couldn't exactly argue her point, "you told him, didn't you?"
She had the decency to drop her facade in the empty corridor. "He wished to know in what way your distress was manifesting. You have been slightly irritable, which can be a symptom of insomnia." She sent me a side glance with an expression that was about as close to remorse as Jane ever seemed to get.
"Maybe that's why I snapped at Dr. Moore."
I expected a lecture, but instead, she snickered.
"I'm only disappointed I missed the look on his face."
I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth before deciding, "I'll apologize next time I see him."
"No!" Jane's hand took hold of my arm, a shadow darkening her features.
The suddenness of her actions not only encouraged trepidation but also filled me with an odd sort of dread. I could only imagine the worst-case scenario until Jane decided to fill me in on why she'd suddenly flipped a switch.
It took her a moment to realize how her outburst had affected me, and she dropped my arm. She did not explain, saying only, "I'll leave you at your room." Neither of us said another word but the farewell when we arrived.
"You may have to do a bit of damage control every once in a while,"
Heidi nodded to a newly erased circle next to Demetri's name.
Not far away, Felix's name had a smile next to an arrow pointing towards
the empty white space. I could only imagine what he'd drawn.
Nothing PG, that was for sure.
I couldn't bring myself to erase the chalk messages on my wall. Not yet. And it wasn't until the second day, today, after Alec left again that I was able to contemplate the circumstances for why.
It was incredibly out of character for many of the coven members – particularly the three Kings. Yet, they had each personally signed the chalkboard wall. The white dust briefly staining the hands of the leaders of the vampire world. I could hardly picture such a moment being possible, even with Aro's persistence. And they all wore black. I could only imagine the sneer on Caius' face if his robes got covered in chalk.
Not every guard member had left their signature on the board, but I recognized the names of those that had. I was aware that many of the guards did not appreciate my presence, nor my apparent status as Alec's mate. It was not difficult to figure out how immature or ungracious I had been in their eyes. I might've thought the same of myself from an outside view.
Still, I liked Volterra. I enjoyed being around the others and even sitting in boring meetings when I had to. I laughed when Demetri and Felix fought over a game or when Jane acted as if she were too high and mighty, but giggled behind a book when the guys started to throw hands. They made me happy in a way I never knew was possible. I had good memories with my father and the nuns, but being with the Volturi was a light in my life.
And for a brief moment, a fleeting second, I considered abandoning the search for my father.
The thought was gone as quickly as it had come. It was replaced with Alec. The simple idea of him was enough to leave me breathless. I was sitting on the floor of my room, heart pounding and head reeling, thinking about a boy. It was almost too cliché.
It was almost as if he was behind me, roguishly twisting my curls around his fingers, seeking my attention without a word. An arm tight around my waist with the claim of possessing, rather than the fear of losing. A misdirect, temporary but nearly fatal. Yet never had I felt as sane as when I was in his arms. And I was sure I could not live satisfied with only the memory of him.