Page 115 of Wrecked

She’s a pretty woman with curly brown hair and big doe eyes. She has on a Beauty and the Beast shirt under her open white doctor’s coat. Her name tag says, Dr. Grey Ditto.

“Are you a pediatrician?” I ask as she walks in.

My parents are still gathered around me, helping me as I heave.

Dr. Ditto looks down at her shirt and laughs. “No. Just a believer. I took my kids to Disney last week, and I’m not ready to let go of the magic.”

I am usually one to believe in magic, yet for some reason, I can’t shake this terrible feeling. I vomit again.

“We are going to admit you. Your scans are clean. No brain bleed, but based on your symptoms”—she points her pen toward me hovered over the pink pan—“you have a grade two concussion. We’re going to keep you overnight for observation.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I just want to go home.”

She leans over and turns on the fluorescent lights over my bed. My head is a rush of pain—a burning, nagging fist pounding pain right through my frontal lobe. My eyes involuntarily squeeze shut. I pull my head away from the light and into my mom’s shoulder.

Dr. Ditto turns the light off. “Yeah, you’re staying overnight.”

I open an eye and look her way. She has a smile on her face, and she’s taking notes on a white notepad.

“You’re not going anywhere until those symptoms go away. We’ll get you some antinausea meds and some ibuprofen for the pain,” she says as she starts to walk out the door.

“Doctor,” I call out. “Do you have any information on the officer who came in with me?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sure the doctors are doing everything they can.”

As she walks out the door, my head begins to throb.

My parents stay with me as a nurse comes over with a new bed. I crawl onto it and let her wheel me through the ER, down a long hallway, up an elevator, into another hallway with a nurses’ station, and into a patient room. I have a double, but the second bed is empty.

Another nurse comes in to introduce herself. She has on maroon-colored scrubs and has a rolling computer cart. She scans my hospital bracelet, and then she hands me a small white cup and another pill that came out of a packet.

The sun is peeking through the blinds. My parents look like they’ve been at a rave with the dark circles under their eyes—Mom’s runny mascara and Dad’s pale complexion.

“Go home, and get some rest.”

“No.” My mom is adamant. “We’ll stay until they say you can go home.”

I sigh. “I’m really tired, and if you’re here, I won’t sleep. Doc said I needed to rest.” It’s a half-truth. My body is exhausted, but them being here isn’t what’s keeping me from sleeping.

“Go,” I push on. “Come back this afternoon. You need to be nice and rested if you’re gonna take care of me when I get home. I expect twenty-four-hour nurse service from you two, including breakfast in bed.” I give them a devilish smile. Knowing my parents, Dad will have a smorgasbord of delights ready by noon, and my mom will have knit an afghan with a kitty on it.

My mother looks reluctant as Dad puts his hands on her shoulders. “Come on, Pammy. We’ll come back in a few hours.”

I’m left alone in my hospital room. I turn my head and look out the metal slats of the window blinds. There isn’t much of a view. All I can see is the sunlight coming through the dirty window. I look away, toward the open room. A lone bed is next to mine. A curtain hanging from the ceiling is pushed open. There are some empty chairs and a bedside table. I try to focus my attention on the squares of the linoleum floor, but my eyes grow heavy. The exhaustion I’ve been fighting sets in.

Threatening dark eyes skim over my naked body. The red fabric has been cut open, leaving my breasts exposed. His knife cuts again to rip my bra, nipping my skin. A trail of blood runs down my torso, freezing before it hits my navel. My body is turning to ice from being exposed to the open air and his sinister gaze.

His mouth is full of gold teeth and a curse. It lowers to my neck and bites my skin. I try to fight him off, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed. My arms can’t push him away. My legs refuse to kick. I will my body to rage, but it lies motionless.

Nico’s malicious hands grab the torn fabric at the bottom of my jumpsuit, and he pulls away further until I am exposed down to my toes. I try to cry out. He cuts off my tongue. All I can do is let the tears fall down my face as I pray for Adam.

He undoes his belt buckle and rips open his zipper. I turn my head to look away. What I see causes me to gasp.

Adam is lying in a pool of blood on the floor beside me. His once-vibrant eyes are lifeless as he lies dead on the carpet.

I want to reach him.

I want to help him.