Page 130 of Western Waves
I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down my information. I held it out to Peter, and he once again told me he’d reach out as soon as he heard anything.
I headed back to my car to drive back to the hospital to wait on information on Grams. As I sat in my car, trying my best not to fall completely apart, I began texting Damian.
Stella:Where are you?
Stella:Grams is in the ICU. She’s unconscious.
Stella:I’m freaking out. Are you okay? Please call me. Or text. Anything.
Stella:Please, Damian, I need you. I can’t do this alone.
Stella:Call me.
Stella:I love you. Please call.
37
Damian
“Will you check that for me?”I asked Catherine, speaking about my unattended cell phone.
I’d already spent one too many seconds with Rosalina, and now it was my time to have a whirl with Catherine. They’d been feeding me and giving me water as if I was a toddler unable to eat on my own. What was even worse was the piss bucket they’d made me use. Lucky for them, I had not had to shit yet, but when I did, I had visions of rubbing their faces in it.
“Why?” she responded, flipping through her own phone. Probably staring at photographs of herself in a vain fashion. Never in my life had I seen someone so obsessed with their own reflection. “You know it’s just messages from needy Stella.”
“She’s not needy, bitch,” I snipped at her.
She glanced my way with a wicked grin. “For someone who wants something from me, you sure have quite an unkind approach to getting my help.”
“Excuse me for not being polite when I’m tied to a chair due to a group of psychopaths.”
“Sociopaths are more likely. At least for Denise.”
“Is this funny to you? Is this shit really getting you off?”
She shrugged. “Kind of, actually. You don’t understand. The one man I loved left me—twice—because of that bitch of a wife of yours. Stella ruins everything. Kevin never had a shot at happiness because of that brat. And I’m sure you don’t either, if you stay around her.”
“She needs me.”
“She doesn’t.”
“She does.”
“Doesn’t.”
“Does.”
“Doesn’t!” she shouted, tossing her hands up in frustration. “God, what is it with you men and that mediocre girl? How does she have your balls wrapped in her corrupt little hands? She is not a good person.”
“Says the person who literally has me chained to a chair.”
“Because of her, you idiot. Don’t you see? She ruins everything.”
“What did she do to you, Catherine?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What did Stella do that was so evil to you? You knew her, what? When she was five? Six? Then again in her teens? Please, by all means, tell me how she ruined your life.”