TRAPPED WITH THE MAFIA BOSS

Elena’s POV

It's been a week since she returned.

No calls, no warning; she just showed up on my doorstep that fateful Friday evening. The hollowness in her eyes has stayed with me ever since. It makes me restless, so much so that even my supervisors at the hospital have noticed.

But how can I make them understand that my twin sister, who I haven't seen since... I can't even remember when shows up looking like a thousand ghosts are hunting her? How do I explain that my twin sister, the most talkative of us, hasn't said more than three sentences to me since last Friday?

Something is definitely wrong somewhere. Maybe it's my instincts as a nurse heightening my supposed fears. Or maybe not. However, I am determined to find out the problem when I return home from work today.

My shift should end by 5 p.m., but I have made arrangements with Tobey, whom I'm on shift with, so I can leave by 3. I hate using him because he'd interpret it as me finally warming up to his advances. Men and their egos, ugh. I wonder what else I can do to make him understand that I don't like him. For starters, he is too smug and short. What am I supposed to do with a man I'm taller than?

Speak of the smug-short-devil, and he appears. The harsh smell of his perfume hits me harder than a rude awakening. Why hasn't anyone told him that the scent is not the swag he thinks it is?

"Elena!" he shouts before reaching my station.

"Hi, Tobey. Again, thank you for accepting to cover for me".

"Oh, it's no problem. Anyone can see that you haven't been yourself lately. And since you don't want to talk about it, I'm just happy I can help".

I smile tautly.

He continues to stare at me. Hotly.

So I clear my throat to bring him back to reality. "Uhm, so is there a reason why you came to see me? It's not 3 p.m. yet, is it?" I glance at my watch. Faint panic hits my chest as I remember that it was a gift from my twin sister on our 16th birthday. We always swapped gifts. God, it seems so long ago.

"Oh, yeah, right. Uhm, no, 3 p.m. is just 22 minutes away. So your patient, you know the burn victim from last night?" I nod impatiently. “Yeah, he's in pain, so the doctor in charge recommends IM paracetamol, 600mg. He says it should help with the pain."

I furrow and then scratch my temple. "Hmm. He's still in pain? Poor child. I'll get right on it then. Thank you for telling me; Doctor Martins would have handed me my ass".

"Sure, no problem. In fact, you know what, Elena? I'll do you one better; you can go home. I'll go give the injection. It's almost 3, after all."

 "Seriously?" my eyes light up. Despite my dislike for him, I can't help but be excited and grateful.

 "Yeah, it's no problem, Elena. Just go take care of whatever it is. I hope you can be bright and early tomorrow. Although you're brighter than the sun every day anyway".

For the sake of the favor he's doing for me, I pretend to enjoy the compliment. My twin taught me years ago how to fake a blush.

"Thank you a millionth time for covering for me, Tobey. I owe you!" I say as I scramble for my bags and ward notes. I'm out of the hospital in a flash, but not before I hear him say, "I'm sure we can both figure out a beneficial payment method".

I don't bother looking back, but I know he ended the sentence with that smug smile.

 *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Calm down, Elena. Your sister is fine, and your patients at St. James Hospital are fine. Just breathe. I try to control my breathing, but it's to no avail. So I drive even faster, almost colliding with a red sedan a few blocks from my home.

I don't even remember to lock my car before dashing for the front door. I call out my sister's name twice, but she doesn't answer. That's weird. I can hear Adele's 'Someone Like You' wafting from the speakers in the living room, so she must be dancing to the song like she used to do.

Then, why is she not answering? I reach for the doorknob only to find out the door isn't locked.

"Sh*t", I mutter, my heart plummeting to my stomach.

"Serena?" I call out softly.

My apartment is small, so there aren't many places to hide. Assuming she's hiding and this is just a funny prank, maybe she's back to her wild, prank-pulling self.

I see her jacket on the floor in the bedroom, so I conclude she's in the bathroom.

Wait, I don't hear the shower.

Okay, I've had enough of this. I march to the bathroom; the door is just half closed.

"Serena, I know you're in here. You haven't been talking, so I came home early. Then I knock and shout your name, but you don't answer; what are you—"

I yanked the bathroom's curtain wide open, only to see what would change my life forever.

My sister is a heap in the bathtub.

Pale, lifeless, sad. Even in death, I can still see the sadness in her eyes.

I can see a bottle of fentanyl, a syringe, one of my favorite teaspoons, and a lighter skewered on the cold, hard tiles. I slump to the floor, unable to breathe.

It's as though someone shot a thousand arrows straight through my heart, pulled them out, and shot me again. My tongue went dry, and suddenly, my head hurt.

My medical experience tells me she OD'd at least half an hour ago. If only I had come home earlier. I can't even bring myself to touch her.

Then, I see two A4 papers stapled together, still clutched loosely in her left palm. Slowly, I reach for it. It's her handwriting, and it's a letter addressed to me.

"My dearest Elena,

The more I read, the more wide-eyed I become, the more my body hurts. Oh my God, Serena, you could have just told me, I mutter as my lips tremble. My heart shatters all over again in ways I never knew were possible.

I don't know when I yank my hair repeatedly and let out the most feral scream.