Some hours later, Dominick woke up. Marcus stood up from the small armchair and moved to his friend's side.
"Where am I?" Dom asked, feeling disoriented. There was a strange, bitter taste in his mouth. "Marcus? Is that you?"
"You're in the hospital," he replied, looking at him with disapproval. "Are you trying to die, you idiot? What's wrong with you, Dominick?"
Dom let his head fall back on the pillow.
"Don't start, please," he muttered, turning his gaze away.
"We're going to have a serious talk when you get out of here," Marcus warned. Dom just rolled his eyes. "I'm staying in the city for a while," he added. Dominick looked at him, not quite understanding what he meant. "I'll explain later. For now, rest. They'll discharge you tomorrow."
"Whatever…" he murmured, staring at a fixed point on the wall, lost in thought.
Marcus watched him for a few seconds, thinking something truly serious must have happened to find him in such a miserable state. He gave him one last look and left the room.
[...]
Wednesday
Marcus had taken care of all the paperwork to discharge Dominick from the hospital. Marcus wanted him to stay a bit longer, but Dominick had others plans, he didn't want to stay another minute in the hospital. Now, both were sitting in the car while Gregory drove.
The blue-eyed man noticed how quiet his friend was. Dom stared out the window, and it was painfully obvious something was wrong. His face looked more worn than ever—dark circles under his eyes, an unshaven face, and his hands were wrapped in bandages, covering small cuts.
They arrived at the hotel in the same silence they had shared all along. Dominick hadn't said a single word since leaving the hospital.
They walked in.
"Your old room is no longer available. I had them prepare another one for you. Please, Dominick, don't destroy this one—you're not the one who has to clean it up. Don't be so inconsiderate," his friend scolded.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured.
They took the elevator up, and in the distance, they saw a furious Maximiliano storming toward them.
He didn't greet them. He didn't say a word. He just punched Dominick so hard he hit the floor.
"You filthy son of a bitch!" he growled, furious. He went to hit him again, but Marcus stepped in.
"I don't know what's going on here, but this isn't the time for fights. Dominick just got out of the hospital," the blond man said, standing up for his friend.
"I told you to stay away from her! But you didn't listen!" Maxi shouted. Dom remained silent, touching his busted lip. "Because of you, Jade left! You hurt her, you idiot! But you don't care, do you? Nothing matters to you! I should beat you so hard…"
"Do it!" Dom snapped. "Beat me to death, because I can't take the guilt! Hit me so hard I never wake up again! I can't stand this hell I'm living in—just do it! End it, because if you don't, I will. Nothing makes sense anymore. I feel like the worst scum on this earth. What I did to her hurts, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if she'll ever forgive me."
Maximiliano fell silent.
"I hope you know this is where our friendship ends. I can't be friends with someone like you. I talked to you so many times. I supported you through everything, Dominick… but no more," he muttered. "It hurts that things had to end like this because I saw you as a brother… but you've gone too far."
"I understand. And I respect your decision…" Dominick said quietly, looking at his friend—who at that moment wasn't just angry.
He was disappointed.
Marcus didn't step in. He knew that was between them. It wasn't his place. But he also knew his friend was hurting from those words.
"I have something to discuss with you, Maximiliano," Marcus interjected, trying to ease the tension a bit. Maximiliano nodded and walked away, getting in the elevator.
Dominick began to walk without really knowing where to go.
"This way," Marcus guided him.
They entered a beautiful room. Dominick immediately looked for alcohol, but there was none. He turned toward his friend, clearly irritated.
"Don't look at me like that," Marcus rolled his eyes. "What did you think? That I'd let you drink yourself to death again?"
"Why do you care? Whether I die or not is my problem," Dom growled.
"You're wrong. You're my friend, idiot. And I'll make damn sure you don't drink another drop," he said firmly, crossing his arms.
Dom scoffed.
"Leave me alone," he ordered, throwing himself onto the bed.
"Don't bother asking for alcohol—they already know not to give you a single drop. Someone will bring you food soon, and for your own good, you're going to eat it, or I'll make you eat it—fist by fist," he threatened. He wasn't in the mood. "I have to talk to Maximiliano. I'm going to be working here."
"Here?"
Dominick sat up.
"A lot has happened in this hotel. I'll tell you when you're feeling better…" Marcus gave him one last look before walking out, getting into the elevator, and heading toward Maxi's office.
[...]
Dominick confirmed what his friend had told him. When he called to ask for alcohol, they refused. Not even his threats worked this time.
So, he went to the bathroom and took a shower—his first real one in days. When he was done, he got dressed and stepped out, taking the elevator. A few people stood beside him.
The metallic doors opened and he stepped out immediately, walking into the bar. He sat at the counter, where the same guy from before came to serve him.
"Willy, pass me a bottle of whiskey and a glass, please," he asked, looking around.
The young man gave him an apologetic look and nervously scratched the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we were given strict orders not to give you a single drop of alcohol, under any circumstance. Even if you try to threaten us," Willy informed him.
Dominick slammed his fist on the counter and stood up.
"Goodbye, Willy."
He left the hotel and had his car brought around. Without wasting time, he drove to the nearest bar. When he entered, it was packed—men drinking, playing pool. He sat at the counter and started drinking… and drinking…
A woman took the empty seat beside him. She looked him up and down, smiling to herself, thinking she could seduce him—and maybe even get some money out of it.
"Hey, handsome. Mind if I keep you company? Who knows, maybe we could have some fun later," she suggested. Dom paused mid-drink, turning his head to see who was interrupting him.
The woman gave him a flirty smile. She was attractive, no doubt. Her face made her intentions obvious from miles away. But in that moment, he wasn't in the mood—not at all.
"Don't waste your time," he said flatly, shutting down her approach before she got her hopes up.
"Excuse me?" the woman raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Dominick downed the drink and turned fully toward her.
"Don't think you stand a chance with me, because you don't. Maybe another time I would've considered you a decent hookup for the night, but I'm not in the mood, and I don't want to be ruder than I already am. So just… ignore me."
"You're such an asshole!" she snapped, furious at his rejection.
"What's going on, babe?" a man asked, stepping up beside her and wrapping a possessive hand around her waist—an act that made Dom roll his eyes. "Is this jerk bothering you?"
"Frank, this guy just—"
"Your sweet little girlfriend here just offered to have sex with me later. That's what you meant, right? When you said, 'maybe we could have some fun'?" Dom interrupted, taking another swig from the bottle he'd ordered.
Frank glared at him, livid.
"That's a lie!" the woman defended herself.
"Are you calling my girlfriend a slut?!" the man roared, stepping closer to Dominick. He got to his feet, pushing the chair back, and turned to face him.
"Spelled out clearly: yes," he answered, knowing a punch was coming—but almost welcoming it. Deep down, he believed physical pain might numb the emotional pain, as insane as it sounded. He wanted to get hit. He wanted to feel so much pain that it'd make him forget… forget the guilt.
The punch sent him stumbling back a few steps, worsening the cut on his lip.
Dom grinned.
"A woman hits harder," he said with a mocking smile.
The smile faded instantly… as memories of Jade's blows returned.
"You son of a bitch!" the man lunged at Dominick, and he didn't hesitate to fight back, sparking chaos in the bar…
[....]
The sound of his phone woke him up. Marcus frowned at the unknown number flashing on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, are you a relative of Mr. Dominick Jackson?" a man asked.
Marcus's frown deepened.
"You could say that. Why? Has something happened?" he asked, getting out of bed.
"I'm calling from the police station. Mr. Jackson started a fight at a bar and he's being held in custody. We had to call someone, and since he didn't give us any names or numbers, we called this one," the officer informed him.
"Thanks for letting me know. I'm on my way."
He got the address and cursed Dominick under his breath for his reckless behavior. He got dressed and left the hotel, heading to the station.
Later, he was walking through the station doors. He spoke with an officer, who—after much pleading—finally agreed to let him see Dominick.
He sighed when he saw his friend. He was bruised all over, his shirt stained with blood, staring at a fixed spot on the floor.
"You've got a visitor," the guard announced. "You don't have long, sir."
Marcus nodded, and the officer walked off.
Dom lifted his head. Some bruises were starting to show.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Marcus asked, stepping up to the bars. "What's going on with you, Dom? Why the hell are you acting like this?"
"Because Maximiliano was right. Nerea was right too…" he dropped his head back against the wall. His friend didn't understand. "I'm trash, Marc. I don't deserve to live… I…"
He went quiet, unable to meet his friend's eyes.
"When I told you I'd do anything to sleep with that girl…" he swallowed hard, the memory of those words now piercing him like nails. Everything he'd done was catching up to him—and it wasn't pretty.
"And did you? Did you sleep with her?" Marcus squinted at him. "Is that why you're like this? Because of that woman? I don't really get it."
"I offered her money," he blurted, and Marcus's eyes widened. "She accepted. I got so angry because by doing that, she proved me right. I always thought she was easy because of the way she… acted." He covered his face as best he could—two of his ribs ached, having landed on a table. "What an idiot I was. I treated her so badly, and she only accepted the money because her father was seriously ill. I got drunk, Marc… I lost my head. I took hangover pills, and even though it doesn't justify anything, the fact that I kept drinking made me totally out of it when we… when we consummated the deal," he slammed his injured fist against the old bed. "She'd never been with anyone before, and I… I acted like a brute, an animal."
His friend listened to him, grasping the seriousness of the situation, and though deeply upset with Dominick, he felt pity for the girl.
"For God's sake, Dominick! What have you done?" Marcus paced in front of the bars, rubbing his forehead. "Sometimes I don't know—I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. You just scarred that girl for life, all because of your damn selfishness. You need to start thinking about other people's feelings. I get that the betrayal from that woman hit you hard—especially with your brother involved—but damn it!" The blond man looked at him. Reproaching him hadn't been part of the plan, but Marcus had been in a foul mood ever since the woman he loved left—and hearing about this mess only made it worse.
"You're my friend. I love you like a brother, but what you did is unforgivable, Dominick." He sighed, reminding himself to calm down. His friend was clearly suffering. His face showed the overwhelming guilt he felt, and in that moment, he hated himself more than anything in the world. "As your friend, I'm telling you—go find that woman. Beg her, cry if you must, crawl on the floor like a dog if that's what it takes, but get her to forgive you."
"I searched all over the hotel, but she quit. Her friend slapped me and said that even if she knew where she was, she wouldn't tell me," he admitted, closing his eyes. Everything hurt.
"And that's it? You're giving up just like that? That easily?" Marcus scoffed with irony. "You're so persistent."
"What do you want me to do?" he snapped, opening his eyes to glare at him.
"For starters, stop drowning in your self-pity," Marcus folded his arms. "The woman I love left me too. She walked away because she believed there was no future after all the lies. You know why I'm here, in New York? Because I want to change. I want to be better for her. I love her too much to let us end that way. I'm searching for her everywhere—I won't stop until I find her. You want forgiveness? Then look for her, damn it! Look for her until you can't anymore! But stop drinking, start eating properly, and stop acting like a child."
"As if it were that easy."
"You're an idiot. I'll support you however I can, but damn it—you need to wake up. If you don't, you'll destroy yourself completely, and you'll never earn that woman's forgiveness. Not that you deserve it. And she… she'll just go on hating you for the rest of her life." Dominick stayed silent. "You're being released tomorrow. I hope you think about what I said tonight—and make the right decision."
Marcus left the station.
Dominick looked at the bars and leaned back. It was cold, and his body ached, but he didn't care—nothing did anymore. Still, he figured he should probably listen to his friend and hire someone to find her…
...