Page 23 of The Harbinger
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “We’ve been over this.”
“How did you get this?” He pointed to his temple, then to me.
I pressed my fingertip to my right temple, and he indicated the other side. A rough patch of skin on my left temple, no bigger than a blueberry, dimpled away as my finger slid over the side of it.
My chin scrunched as I shook my head. “What is it?”
“A scar.”
“Maybe I fell or something.”
“Have you ever been admitted into a mental health ward?”
I expelled a loud breath of air, my shoulders slumping. “How much longer is this going to take?”
Dr. Sergei Rodionovich closed his notebook and tucked it away when the door opened, and Sacha walked through. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and nodded to the doctor.
“Any diagnosis?” His dark eyes greeted mine before looking back at Dr. Sergei.
He grabbed his things and met Sacha at the door. “Too soon to tell, but I’d like to get some scans done.”
Scans? He’d never said anything about more tests.
“Other health factors?”
Dr. Sergei glanced over his shoulder in my direction, then back at him. “She’s emaciated, a bit dehydrated, probably because of being held in captivity and living on the streets. But overall, her health looks fine.” He glanced my way again, then leaned into Sacha, and I narrowed my gaze as he spoke in Russian, causing my stomach to sink.
It was one thing to be talked about, but it was another for them to do it in a way I couldn’t understand. What didn’t he want me to hear? And why was Sacha nodding in agreement?
“Hello. I’m still here.” I waved, catching Sacha’s attention, before he returned it to the doctor.
“I’d recommend she detox.”
Detox?
I gulped as my finger rubbed against my thumb again, pulling my concentration to my damp skin, jerking against the friction.
One. Two. Three.
My heart rate picked up pace and slammed into my chest, causing my breaths to rush in.
Did he have any idea what that would do to me? I couldn’t quit cold turkey. I’d never done something like that before. Or had I?
Sacha nodded and walked the old man out of my new opulent prison, their conversation resuming in Russian, leaving me to the silent, eerie room and a chaotic mind.
I wandered around, my shaking fingers running against the black decorated wood that separated the wall from top to bottom, until I wandered into the en-suite and splashed cold water on my face.
Even though I’d had a shower on the airplane, my skin crawled with itchy ants—a side effect, I’d learned.
The person reflecting in the mirror held little resemblance to who I was on the inside. It was as though I were in a meat suit. If only I could find the zipper and escape.
I tilted my head as I pulled at the darkened, baggy skin underneath my eye, showing the microscopic red veins spread throughout like spiderwebs. My fingers wobbled from the strain, yet I tipped my head closer to the mirror.
Who are you? And what happened to you?
Pain pinched my gurgling belly as I stared harder at the damaged young woman when my pupils dilated, filling the gray-blue tinted irises.
“What the hell…” I whispered and moved closer when the lights flickered, slamming my world into darkness. The sleepy sun cut through the slivered blinds, my only source of light.