But in the dark, a rush of panic finds me; throttles me.
Fire. Screeching, twisted metal. The sickening lurch of falling, hurtling to the ocean. The impact. Bodies crushed, the final breaths swallowed by water.
I jerk awake, heart racing, gasping for air. Pain throbs in my foot, my head, sheets drenched against my skin, something tethering my hand.
Trapped.
The nightmare is already dissolving, but I flail, still falling helplessly, clawing my way out of the dark, seawater in my throat, my scream garbled.
Hands grip my shoulders, steadying me, holding me as I shake, his deep voice soothing.
“Lily. It’s alright—I’ve got you.”
I draw a breath. Another gasp, then a choked sob.
“I’ve got you,” Brandon repeats.
A gentle chime pulses around us. The hospital room is dim.
Ellenor’s voice says, “I’ve called the nurse. She might need more painkillers.”
A whimper escapes me.
“They said it was painless,” I mumble. “Dad…”
He strokes my hair, a single sweep that’s so tender. “You were dreaming.”
“No. I was remembering.” My breaths are ragged, anger spiking throughme, hot and irrational as I clutch Brandon’s sleeves. “How could they know he didn’t suffer? That he wasn’t scared as it went down?”
“Shh,” Brandon murmurs, holding me close.
My cheek rests against his chest, warm and solid.
Calm, as always.
Except his rapid heartbeat belies that calmness.
“It’s alright,” he whispers. “Sleep. You’re safe.”
37
Fractured
Lily-Anne
The smell of disinfectant and starch wakes me.
Light scampers against my eyelids, an intrusive pressure that pulls me from sleep. Everything hurts. My throat. My chest. My leg most of all.
There’s a low, steady beeping nearby. I open my eyes. White walls. Medical equipment. Bright windows framing the top of a tree—we’re up high.
I try to move, but an involuntary groan escapes me.
“Lily?”
“Mum?” I ask, hopeful, needy.
“No, sweetie. It’s me, Elle.”
