"Brook." I try to say her name but don't hear any sound coming out.
"I'm right here," she says.
Did she hear me? She couldn't have. Why is she here and not at school? What day is it?
"Dean, it's me. Brook. Can you hear me?"
I try to reach for her but can't. My arms feel like they're weighted down. What the hell did that nurse give me? Whatever it was, she better not give me that again. I'd rather fight through the pain than be numbed to the point I can't even move.
"It's okay," Brook says, her soft hand sliding up and down my arm. "You need to sleep. I miss you so much, Dean. I'm so sorry this happened." I hear her sniffling.
I hate that she's crying for me. I'm not supposed to make her cry. I'm supposed to make her happy. Make her laugh. I'm supposed to be strong for her. Protect her. Take care of her. And instead I'm stuck in this bed, unable to move.
Where's Jake? Why isn't he with her? Maybe he's too young to come in here, or maybe he's afraid to, not wanting to see me this way.
"Jake," I whisper but it was so faint I could barely hear it.
"I'm going to go," I hear Brook say. "I need to let you rest." I feel her hand leave mine as she gets up. "I'll be back later." I feel her lips on my cheek. "I love you."
As she leaves, I feel myself drift off to sleep.
When I wake up again, there's a burning pain in my neck and I have a splitting headache that feels like my brain's about to explode. It's making me nauseous and dizzy, and when I open my eyes I'm seeing double. I blink a few times and my vision goes back to normal, but the headache is still pounding against my skull.
"Have a good nap?" a nurse says, coming in to check the monitors by my bed. She's older than the other nurse, with narrow glasses sitting low on her nose and gray hair pulled up in a bun.
"How long did I sleep?" I ask, my voice no longer a whisper. It still sounds weak but at least I can hear it.
"About eight hours." She looks at me. "How do you feel?"
"Better," I say, as convincing as I can. I don't want them giving me more drugs. I'll fight through the pain if that's what it takes to feel like myself again. I need to be awake and be able to think and talk so I can figure out what the hell's going on.
"How's the pain?" she asks. "From a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst."
"About a five," I tell her, knowing she wouldn't believe me if I told her anything lower than that. The pain is actually more like an eleven but I can deal with it. I play football. I'm used to pain.
"Five?" she says in a skeptical tone. She checks my chart, then nods. "They increased your pain meds. That explains it."
"Increased? I told them to cut back."
"I see that in the notes. But you'd already received the meds when the note was made."
Holy shit. I'm in this much pain when they've still got me loaded up on pain meds? What's it going to feel like when they back off?
"They should be wearing off by now. Your next dose will be lower. Make sure you let us know if you want them increased again." She turns to leave.
"Wait!" I sit up slightly, sending pain shooting through my body.
"Yes?" she says, turning back.
"Was someone here earlier? A girl?"
"I don't know. I just started my shift."
"Were you here yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Did you see a kid come in here? Fifteen. Tall. Skinny."
