“I think she’s saying her name is…Allora?” Grim gets it. Thank fuck.
I nod.
“Last name?”
“St-sterling.”
“How old are you, sweetie?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
I shudder involuntarily.
No.
No, I absolutely can’t talk about what happened.
Not yet.
“She’s in shock,” someone says. “Let’s get her in the back. Grim, why don’t you wait?—”
“No.” I blindly reach for Grim’s arm. I don’t know what this obsession with him is, but right now he’s the only person I trust.The only person I can count on. The drugs and trauma probably play a big part in feeling that way, but that doesn’t matter. All I know is that I need him to be in the room with me. He saved me. He listened when I asked for help. Then he put himself in danger to follow us. I’ll always be grateful.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” Grim says.
The nurse must notice how agitated I am and she nods. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I croak.
“We’re going to get you a blanket,” the nurse says to me. “Then I need you to tell me what you’re on.”
“I’m not on anything!” I whisper harshly, tears spilling for the first time. “They drugged me—it’s not the same.” Finally, my mouth appears to be connecting with my brain.
“Who did?” the nurse’s eyes sharpen.
I turn to Grim questioningly. “Did you…get him?”
“No, we were focused on you,” Grim says quietly. “But I have a description. Maybe the police will get prints off the van.” I hear him telling his version of the events to the nurse. And once again, his voice soothes me to the point of sleepiness.
“Not yet, sweetie,” the nurse says, her tone softer. “Stay awake a little longer, okay?”
I nod even though I don’t want to. Sleep is calling and I want to succumb. To sleep through the trauma of the last two days. What they did to me. The drugs and the beatings and— A wave of nausea overcomes me that’s so powerful I gag.
Someone grabs one of those little puke containers they give at hospitals, holding it out. “It’s okay if you need to puke.”
Jesus. The last thing I want to do is vomit in front of the hottest guy I’ve seen in ages, but my body has other ideas. I haven’t eaten in close to two days so the only thing coming out is bile but I can’t stop it. The next thing I know there’s a pinch inmy arm, and then something cool on the back of my neck. I jerk, averse to being touched, to the pain.
“You’re going to be okay, Allora.” This is Grim’s voice. “Relax and let them help you. It’s just an IV.”
“Please…don’t leave,” I say, panting as I heave again.
Much to my horror, I miss the little bucket and I see liquid soak into the fabric covering his thighs. I’m mortified but can’t do anything about it.
Will this horror ever end?
But Grim doesn’t react, one hand on the back of my neck with the cool cloth, the other holding the bucket as if nothing happened.
