The Slave of Pleasure
Chapter 63

Rachel

Rachel doesn't hesitate. In a mix of joy and despair, she runs towards me, throwing herself into my arms with such force that it almost makes me stagger back. The hug is tight, desperate. I barely have time to process what is happening around me - the destroyed house, the chaos around me - before I feel her body shaking against mine. My first instinct is to maintain my firm posture, my usual posture, but Rachel's collapse in front of me makes something inside me waver. I hug her back, my gaze fixed on her eyes, which are brimming with tears. Before I can say anything, she starts to cry. Tears stream down her cheeks as she murmurs between sobs, "Thank God, Vincenzo, you're okay..."

I am speechless. I, Vincenzo, who always keeps control of every situation, replace myself disoriented by this explosion of emotions from her. Knowing Rachel, I knew she had a big heart, but I hadn't expected this intensity. Her concern is palpable, almost suffocating, and my usual authoritarianism dissolves. For a moment, all the coldness I usually maintain disappears.

"I didn't know if you were going to wake up okay... or if you were going to wake up at all..." she continues, her voice breaking. I can see the weight of fear in her eyes, the anxiety she must have carried while I was unconscious.

She tries to explain everything at once, the words coming out fast and jumbled, as if each thought is an attempt to rid herself of the panic she clearly felt. But I don't understand a thing. Her rushed speech and the state of chaos in the house make everything too confusing.

"Rachel, calm down," I say, holding her shoulders and guiding her back to the bed. "Sit here."

She obeys, still with tears in her eyes, breathing heavily, and I kneel in front of her, holding her hands. "Explain it to me, calmly," I ask, trying to bring some order to the whirlwind of emotions that surrounds her.

My gaze shifts for a second to the nurse, who is still lying in bed in a bizarre manner. She is still asleep, or at least unconscious, completely oblivious to the chaos she helped create.

"Rachel," I ask, nodding toward the woman's clumsy figure in the bed. "What is she doing here?"

Rachel looks back, as if she has only just remembered the nurse's presence. Without hesitation, she picks up something from the floor, a pillow, perhaps, and throws it straight at the sleeping woman's belly. The impact makes the nurse wake up with a start, her eyes wide in shock. And then, out of nowhere, she screams:

"A BEAR!!!"

The nurse is clearly confusing what is happening with some strange dream, mixing reality and fantasy. In her clumsy attempt to get up, she slips and falls off the bed, getting tangled in the blanket.

I can't help but sigh, rubbing my face with my hand, trying to keep my composure.

"Good morning....Nancy," I say, with a hint of irony. This seems to snap her completely out of her reverie. She stops struggling with the blanket and looks at me, still confused.

Rachel, now calmer, stares at me with wide eyes. "Do you know her name?"

I look at Rachel and then back at Nancy, who is standing up, still trying to figure out what's going on. I shrug.

"She's my nurse, Rachel. Of course I know her name," I say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Rachel looks surprised, and for a moment there's an awkward silence. Nancy finally stands up, awkwardly adjusting her clothes, still unsure of how to react to the situation.

The whole scene seems absurd, but it's a perfect reflection of the chaos my house has turned into while I've been out of action. What happened in those two days that turned me into a spectator of a chaotic comedy?

Nancy leaves the room, patting me on the chest twice, as if I were an old friend and not her apparent current patient. "Hang in there, big guy," she says, with that irreverent tone that I was already used to, but that still managed to catch me off guard. Her inconvenient way of acting, passing by me without ceremony, was typical. There was always this exaggerated informality, and at that moment, Rachel looked at me with a mixture of strangeness and confusion. I knew exactly what she was thinking: since when did the nurse who was supposed to be a professional have this familiarity with me?

Rachel was visibly worried. Her expression reflected the chaos that she was trying to understand. I could sense her growing nervousness, but I didn't say anything. I just watched her as she tried to process what she had just witnessed. Before she could ask me anything, Nancy quickly returned with a large pitcher of water and a basket of fruit. Her quick, confident steps contrasted with the chaotic surroundings. As she handed them to me, Nancy dropped to the floor in front of me, sitting cross-legged like a child. carefree.

Rachel, on the other hand, stood beside me, visibly tense. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in all the chaos. Then, she finally said, in an impatient and nervous tone: "This is all such a mess... I don't even know where to start." Her voice had a hint of desperation, as if she was struggling to understand what was happening and, at the same time, trying to take care of me.

I raised my hand, signaling for her to calm down. "Let's organize everything step by step," I said, my voice coming out firmer than I expected. Even though I was weak, I knew there was no point in getting lost in the chaos. "The important thing now is to solve one thing at a time, and the first thing is for me to eat."

Rachel nodded, although she still looked a little lost. Her concern was palpable. She always had this nature of worrying too much, and what affected her most now was the fact that I seemed to be dealing with the situation in a much lighter way than usual. I wasn't known for being someone who took chaos lightly, but I was fragile and when the time came, those two would get what they deserved.

I took the pitcher of water from Nancy and began to drink, feeling the water cool my throat and bring me back to reality, if only for a brief moment. I drank so greedily that for a second I felt my head spinning slightly. Nancy was watching me closely and commented, in that casual tone, "I should have brought a barrel instead of a pitcher." An ironic comment that, to my own surprise, made me laugh.

Rachel looked at me confused. I knew that, in her mind, something didn't make sense. I wasn't the type of person to laugh at ironic comments, especially not in situations like this. "Since when do you laugh at these jokes?" seemed to be what her eyes asked.

I smiled back at Nancy, perhaps more relaxed than I should have been. "Are you still taking your medication, Nancy?" I asked, still joking.

Nancy gave a short laugh. "I don't need them anymore," she replied casually, as if we were discussing something trivial. Rachel stood there, watching this strange exchange. Her concern for the mess and for me was becoming more and more evident, but she also seemed to be trying to figure out what, exactly, was going on between me and Nancy. There was something about the way I was reacting, something that didn't fit with her idea of me. Still, she didn't say anything. She just watched, probably thinking that the right moment to question all of this would come. And I knew that eventually I would have to explain.