Page 65 of Talk to Me

As my eyes adjusted rapidly, I explored the spot with the fingers of my left hand. It was an IV. They’d put an IV in. There was tubing stretching out into the darkness.

Moving in that direction, slowly, I found a metal stand that seemed to be serving as something to hang the IV on. As I traced my fingers up. I located the bag. Okay, so IV in, and there was a bag attached.

My bladder protested after a prolonged moment and I gripped the tape carefully. Then in one movement pealed it back and took the IV out. My hand ached from the contact and I needed to put pressure on it for blood.

Shit, there was nothing handy so I just pushed off the bed and studied the room around me.

Please have an ensuite bathroom.

Please have an ensuite bathroom.

The mental chant went up like a prayer, but there was a hint of blue light reflecting back at me and I almost collapsed as I let go of the bed. It was like every ache and pain in my body rushed in to lodge their complaints all at once.

Irritation shivered through me like a colony of ants spilling out of their hill. I half-stumbled, half-walked into the bathroom and pushed the door closed.

I flipped on a light and winced at the brightness. The image that greeted me in the mirror looked like a horror story. Not that my bladder gave a damn.

Right, I needed to pee.

I had on an oversized shirt that hit me mid-thigh. It was clean and soft. I also didn’t have on any panties. I flipped the toilet lid up, semi-marveling that the toilet had a lid and then sat down a lot harder than I meant to as my legs gave out.

I winced when I hit the seat but then I was peeing and the relief…

Well that was next level.

Eyes closed, I bowed my head and tried to make sense of my thoughts. Wherever I was, it was not that cell or the one I’d been in before. This place felt like a house or a residence.

I glanced around. The towels were too thick and plush to be a random hotel. Didn’t—smell like one either. Business finished, I flushed and then went to wash my hands. The feeling of water sluicing over my skin ignited an itch everywhere.

I needed a shower so bad. I stared at myself in the mirror again. Dark bruises overlaid faded ones. The mottled coloring of blue and black couldn’t hide the green and yellow.

Hands washed, I reached for a toothbrush that was sealed in its packet. Opening it took a minute. My nails were a wreck of jagged pieces and missing altogether on two of them. Right, I couldn’t think about that. There was toothpaste and a toothbrush.

Getting my mouth clean had never felt so good. I leaned heavily against the counter by the time I was done, but I wanted to shower. I’d just gotten the water started when there was a knock at the door.

I damn near jumped out of my skin. The sudden slam of my heart against my ribs hurt. Thankfully, I didn’t scream.

“Yes?” I said. Oh good, my voice didn’t quiver.

“Hey, Patch.” Locke. “You’re up.”

“So it seems.”

“How you doing, Sugar Bear?”

McQuade.

“TBD,” I said. “I need a shower. Bad.”

“You steady enough to do that?” Remy. All three of them right there on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know,” I said, deciding against a lie or a quip. “But I need one and before this all turns into a nightmare again, I want to have one.”

“You’re safe,” Locke said. “There’s a shower chair in there. Use it. One of us will stay right out here and if you need help, just call.”

Reasonable even. I traced my fingers up over my face to my scalp. Everything was too sensitive. It either hurt, pinched, felt like a sunburn, or throbbed.

I was alive.