“Did you give me anything else?” I ask when he finally settles back in his seat next to me.
His brow tips up, but there’s something that flashes in his eyes when he answers “No.”
He should have.
We both go quiet for a long beat, his gaze holding mine, and a kind of knowing crossing his features.
“I only ever start with anti-inflammatory when I see clear bodily trauma if the patient can’t consent.” He tilts his head to the rest of me. “You don’t have much. Just superficial burns, smoke inhalation and a knock to the noggin.”
Again, I’m taken by disappointment over relief andfuck.
“How much longer?”
He holds up three fingers, his nails painted black, and it makes me want to snort at the irony.
I don’t.
Instead, I nod and pull the oxygen mask back up over my face.
“Shake me in two.”
Consciousness is a lotharder than I thought it would be, making my surroundings difficult to navigate as they flutter in and out of scene like something out of a movie.
One minute, I’m climbing out the back of the bus and the next, I’m collapsed in the shower stall, my uniform sticking to my raw skin. I’m blotting at the places I got burned, yellowing the white terry cloth with serum, though I don’t remember getting it.
Where’s Emmett?
The thought of looking for him is gone as fast as it’s there when I find myself working my way up the stairs on autopilot, my lungsstruggling.
Shit, how did I get so winded?
Forcing myself up the rest of the way, I collapse onto the first bed I see.
Sleep when you can or die.
I don’t recall who told me that first, probably just some bullshit training gambit to keep the new recruits on their toes butfuckdoes it feel accurate right now.
Where’s Emmett?
My muscles are too tired to lift my head and look around.
I try to call out, but my voice is shot to fuck and back. It comes out sounding like a wounded groan—which really isn’t too far off from how I really feel—and fills my mouth full of pillow.
Fuck, my head feels heavy.
And it’s not the good kind.
If I can get my feet to work, I’m going to find the good way. That floaty feeling, the darkness that comes with it, is calling my name and Imissit. Iwantit.
Rolling to my side, I huff to avoid a cough when I realize the sheets are damp with my sweat already.
How long have I been here?
My chest feels too tight.
Throat too raw.
Breathing choppy.
