Into the Light (The Light #1)(2)

With time I grew stronger, until finally I was fully cognizant of the world beyond me. As if a switch had been flipped, my battered body was suddenly present. I was no longer floating in nothingness—now there was a bed below me and a blanket upon my chest. The beeps that had been the backdrop of my unconsciousness became clearer. A clean, sterile scent permeated the stagnant air painfully filling my lungs. Exhaling slowly, I opened my eyes.

Adrenaline flooded my system, accelerating my heartbeat and sense of panic.

I can’t see.

Lifting my too-heavy arm and reaching for my eyes, I heard a voice. The voice that had stayed with me through the darkness splintered the stillness with a welcome sound.

“Sara? Are you finally awake?”

A spark of recollection flickered in my dark world. Jacob. I’d heard the name repeatedly in my unconscious state. Instead of reaching for my eyes, I reached toward the hoarse voice, toward his face. At the first contact, I flinched; even the tips of my fingers were tender. Trying again, I connected with his scruffy cheek and traced his strong, defined jaw. With each caress I tried to imagine what I couldn’t see, but my mind’s canvas remained blank.

“I’m here. Thank The Light, Sara. I knew you’d come back. I knew you didn’t want to leave me.”

“I-I . . .” Squeaks like fingernails on a chalkboard came forth as I tried to form words. “C-can’t.” Beads of perspiration dotted my skin. I closed my cracked lips and wished away the dryness of my mouth.

“No, Sara,” he reprimanded. “Don’t talk. Your neck was hurt, damaging your vocal cords. Just listen.”

I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t see, but he was right about my neck. My throat ached. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I snagged its crusted surface. When I touched my neck, the skin was tender.

“Here.” A cool, damp cloth touched my lips.

Instinctively I sucked the moisture from the rag.

“I need to confirm that you’re allowed to drink. We’ll find out soon.”

He took the rag away, but I wanted more. “P-please, more.”

A touch to my lips muted more of my request.

“Sara . . .” His words slowed. “I said no talking. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and brought his lips close to my ear. “Obeying isn’t optional. Remember that.”

Goose bumps materialized on my skin at his rebuke.

“They’ll be in here soon to question you. Don’t embarrass me.”

Embarrass him? My pulse quickened as I struggled to understand. What the hell was he saying? This wasn’t right.

“They’ve told me,” he continued, “that after all that happened, your injuries could’ve been worse.”

Wordlessly I asked the question I couldn’t speak. Lifting my hand, I found a soft material covering my eyes.

Whatever it was, I wanted it gone; however, before I could remove the covering, Jacob stopped my hand.

“Your eyes were also injured in the accident. You hit your head. They say a nerve or something was damaged—there was an explosion.” He moved my hand away from the material. “Don’t touch the bandages. They need to stay in place and allow your eyes to rest.”

An involuntary shudder raced through me as I recalled an explosion . . . and heat . . . and pain. Understanding that the bandages served a purpose, I nodded my unspoken comprehension. Simultaneously a groan escaped my lips and pain stampeded through my body. The simple bob of my head had caused my temples to throb, drowning out Jacob’s words, leaving only a sickening internal buzz that echoed and twisted my empty stomach.

I pursed my lips and slowly exhaled in an attempt to calm the bubbling nausea. As it began to subside, the bed beneath me unexpectedly moved. I was being raised to a sitting position. Trying to hide the pain the movement inflicted, I pressed my lips together and willed my tears to stay behind the bandages.

The bed stopped, leaving me sitting up. I had so many questions. If only my throat weren’t hurt and I could speak.

Jacob’s gentle touch erased a renegade tear from my cheek. “I’m going to take you home, Sara. We’ll get through this, together.” His mellowed tone, as well as his vow, broke through my inner turmoil, endearing this man I couldn’t recall to me. As I took in his promise, warm lips brushed my forehead.

A cloud of leather and musk enveloped me—his scent. I again searched for recognition but found none. Any memories I’d had of Jacob or of my past were gone. He obviously knew me—not only knew me, but expected me to know him, to trust him. To obey him.

I’m not a dog.

One moment he’d reprimand me like a child and the next offer kindness and support. His tone when he’d reminded me to be silent scared me, yet the fleeting kiss upon my forehead left me wanting. The pendulum swing was too much and too new. Releasing the breath I’d held, I smiled toward his warmth.

Then I heard his footsteps walk away, and my panic returned.

From farther away he said, “Sara, I’ll be right back. They need to know you’re finally awake. Do not speak to anyone.” With a sigh he added, “We don’t want you hurting your vocal cords.”

They? Who needs to know? Doctors and nurses?

I was obviously in a hospital bed. Once I heard the click of the closing door, I sat and listened to the room around me. Confident that I was indeed alone, I reached again for the soft bandage securely covering my eyes. Following it with my fingers, I found that the softness went all the way around my head and that under the material were hard domes covering both eyes.