“I just want to get you checked out,” he says, rummaging for my pyjamas. “It won’t take long. We’ll be in and out—”
But I’m barely listening. My feet carry me into the bathroom on autopilot.
When I flick on the light, the brightness slices through my skull, but I force myself toward the mirror anyway.
And I freeze.
I look awful.
My face is pale, blotchy, streaked with dirt. Mascara smudged down my cheeks. My hair tangled, with dried leaves and dust, like I’ve been lying somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Which I have.
Hours. I lost hours.
I stare at myself, my reflection swimming in and out of focus. My stomach twists sickly. Fear prickles under my skin.
An alley. Beside a rubbish bin. Cold concrete. The metallic taste in my mouth.
I sit down on the toilet, trying to breathe through the pounding in my head. When I glance down, a sharp gasp rips out of me.
There’s blood on my inner thighs.
For a moment, I just stare at it, unable to make sense of anything. My brain feels like it’s full of static. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I touch the edge of the bodysuit between my legs and more dried, dark blood flakes away.
My stomach lurches.
I begin to pee and a bolt of pain slices through me—sharp, burning, wrong. I bite down on a cry.
Pain.A deep throb. A memory half-formed. I shudder violently. Why does it hurt like that?
I must sit there too long, frozen, because Kade suddenly pushes the door open.
“Queenie, what’s taking you so—” He stops dead when he sees the blood on my underwear.
“You got your period early?” he asks gently.
I force myself to nod. Slowly. Mechanically.
The wordbabyechoes through my mind from somewhere dark. And that faint smell—citrus, sharp, wrong—flashes again. My chest tightens.
Kade doesn’t notice. He just nods and reaches for the shower controls.
“I’ll put the water on,” he says softly. “And a towel on the radiator. You okay?”
Another nod. A smile that feels like tearing paper.
“Right. Clean up, then get some sleep. We’ll go to the hospital first thing.”
He steps out. And the second the door closes, I break.
I wipe between my legs, and a red-hot pain shoots through me again. I inhale sharply, wincing. It’s like my nerves are on fire. I look down at the tissue and clamp a shaking hand over my mouth.
The memories flicker like broken film.
Zesty. Pain. Baby. Relax. Hold still.
My entire body trembles.
I stand, undressing in clumsy, jerking movements. My clothes drop in a heap. When I lift my gaze to the mirror, I choke on a sob.
