CHAPTER 17
EMERSYN
Cool air brushed over my cheek. Then nipped at my nose. On some level, the vague notion of opening my eyes wandered through me without pausing. The next time I roused, hands were on me. They lifted and settled me onto a bed. The sheet was scratchy against my arms. Something cold pushed through my veins, freezing the complaints.
The hours floated. Or maybe it was days. One blink it was dark. Another was light. My bladder hurt and there was something cold beneath my bare ass. “Come on,” the nurse said.
Come on and what? The words fell through my mind one letter at a time and my lips were too numb to give them shape.
“If you don’t,” the woman warned. It was a woman, right? She was blurry, could be a guy. The tenor of her voice suggested female. Oh, who cared? It was too hard to focus on that. “I’ll have to put a catheter in if you don’t pee.”
Oh.
Pee.
I could do that.
The stitch in my side, a notion of discomfort vanished under a wave of relief. Oh, it felt good to just pee. I think I pee’d forever.
And ever.
I didn’t think I wanted to stop. The elation of such a simple act buoyed me and this time when the cold rushed through me, I floated away. Maybe not happily away, happily implied caring. I just didn’t anymore.
The rush of chilled air against my face was one thing. Cotton candy scented the air and I wrinkled my nose. It itched but when I tried to raise my hand to scratch it, I couldn’t. Something held my arms in place. Frustration inched up from beneath the surface of the ice coating me.
“Hold still.” The all-business male voice snapped through the cracks in the ice, chipping them away. Something pulled against my wrist and pinched. Tape? A ripping sound and then the sting traveled up my arm. The sensation shoved the fog away like a harsh breeze. I unglued my eyes and opened them. “Just changing the bandages, Miss Sharpe. We’ll get you comfortable here in a bit.”
Bandages? What? I tried to form the words but my throat burned and my lips cracked.
“Be gentler,” the nurse said. “We don’t want to tear out the stitches.”
Why did I have stitches?
Where the hell was I?
Each flush of awareness seemed to scrape away more of me. What it left behind was just hurt.
“We don’t want them infected,” the man said, his tone nowhere near as friendly as the woman. It took some serious effort to focus on the man. Tall with thick shoulders and arms, he also had dirty blond hair and a really unpleasant expression. His hands were huge. For a moment, a flash of Vaughn went through my mind. But where his hands were gentle and kind, this guy’s hands were tense and harsh. He didn’t seem to care that the tape ripped at my skin or pulled at the stitches.
Every sliver of pain inflicted by his actions drained the bubble around me of the effervescent air. Air that remained too light and still smelled too sweet. I managed to lift my right hand. A nasal cannula was tucked into my nostrils. I tugged it down and the sugary flavor of the oxygen vanished.
Sucking in a hungry gulp of air, I pulled my left arm to myself as soon as he finished re-wrapping it. The skin burned and ached. More, the muscles beneath it did. It hurt to even hook my fingers closed.
“What happened?” The fact I pushed the words out exhausted me, pure and simple. My throat hurt, the sound trembling with each syllable like it added to the bruises.
“It’s all right,” the female nurse said, filling my vision with her plump cheeks, kind brown eyes, and easy smile. “You’re in a safe place.”
“Not an answer,” I protested as she pushed the cannula back into place. When I would have yanked it out, the bruiser of a guy caught my hand and pinned it back to the bed. A rip of velcro tore through the quiet and then it fastened around my bicep and again over the bandage. The action pinned my arm and panic scraped its way through me.
“Shh,” the nurse repeated. “You’re in a safe place. We need you to keep resting. Getting upset is not going to do anything.” The taste of sweetness grew almost cloying. Cotton candy and bubblegum.
Gas.
It was nitrous.
“Why?” I asked. “What happened?”
My thoughts kept scattering like bowling pins being flung apart. The crack of a ball striking them louder than any grip I could exert. It knocked them away before I could grasp them.
“You tried to kill yourself,” the male nurse informed me bluntly.
“Really?” The female seemed almost scandalized. “The doctor wants her to rest and you’re trying to scare her.”
“Spoiled, rich bitches who try to kill themselves for attention don’t deserve to be coddled. She’s only here because her family can afford to put her away.”
“Get out,” the woman snarled with the kind of authority that actually had the bruiser paling.
That was nice of her. I didn’t like him, but my vision was already blurring. The sweet smell proved inescapable. My body grew lighter and lighter, until I was floating free of it. Better. Nothing hurt here.
A hum of sound, the woman was still there or maybe she came back. “Don’t worry about him, sweetheart. We’re going to fix everything. Your uncle told us about those bad men who took you and the abuse you took.”
What bad men?
“We’ll make sure you’re safe here and you won’t have to worry about them again. I promise.”
I tried to cling to the debris, but it slipped through my numb grasp and the darkness swallowed me whole. Nothing waited there to hurt me. Alone.
Always alone.
But alone at least meant safe.
What bad men?
That thought followed me and a pair of burning blue eyes stared into me as I drifted. I washed up onto a sandy beach where a starling flew overhead. I stared out at the ocean and then down at the sand. I was alone here too. The blue eyes had become blue skies.
Maybe if I walked, I could find… him. Yes, I needed to find… someone again.
A hand on my face woke me. The cold in my veins had tapered off. The nurse was back, she fed me by hand. The first bite was bland and tasted of nothing. Worse, I just ate it. Then she offered me water. The drink slaked what thirst there was. My eyes were too heavy and I didn’t finish much before I slept again.
The cold metal was back and I got to pee again. I should have asked about a shower or using the bathroom, but I was so tired.
The shock jolted my system and catapulted me from sleep. I clamped my teeth into the rubber mouth guard. The male nurse stared down at me. No, not me. He looked at something else. The doctor entered my line of sight. Were they talking? Everything buzzed under my skin, like I was the hive and the bees swarmed.
Ice poured into my veins and the shock hit again.
A woman helped me sit up, then guided me from the bed and into a chair. I didn’t protest as she wheeled me into a bathroom. There was an ugly mark on the back of my hand. It hurt when I tried to close my fingers. When she tugged away the gown and helped me stand, I had to lean on her. Then I was on a cold stool and warm water cascaded over me.
I was so cold.
“Eat,” she instructed and I opened my mouth obediently. At least I thought I did, I couldn’t focus for long. The first bite was mushy and warm. I just ate it. The act of swallowing took effort. “Finish all of it,” she said. “You’re doing a good job.”