Crush(114)

The moon was strangling the sun—no, the sun was strangling the moon.

Tires were spinning.

I was in a car.

No, I was on a train.

Another thud.

I could see.

Lights were bright above me.

I was moving again. Fast. Really fast. I was back on the train.

Or had I been in a car?

This time I focused on only one of my senses—hearing, for now. I concentrated hard and when I did, I could make out what was being said.

“She’s in and out of consciousness.”

“Drug overdose?”

No, I don’t do drugs. I was trying to talk. Could they hear me?

“I don’t think so.”

No, they couldn’t. “Call Logan. I need Logan,” I said.

“How’d she get here?”

“Sudbury Sheriff’s Department brought her in.”

They weren’t listening to me.

“Symptoms?”

“Sweating, tremors, palpitations.”

“Pupils?”

“Dilated.”

“Sounds like insulin shock. I need a CBC, stat.”

A pinch.

“Her pulse is steady.”

Was I in a hospital?

Yes, yes I was. But was it too late?

I couldn’t think anymore.

And then everything went black again.

Time passed. I had no idea how much or how little.

There was an incessant swooshing noise that woke me up.

My eyes flew open.

I felt a bit drunk.

Yet still, I could see things. There wasn’t a mask of darkness around my head anymore—the blindfold was gone.

I could hear things more clearly—they were no longer muffled.

The sounds were coming from machines.

One in particular making that beeping noise that made me want to scream. I’d heard it only once before—when I was in the hospital having my kidney removed and ended up barren.

It was tall and obnoxious and it stood beside me, blinking red numbers, and it was then that I noticed the long plastic tube that ran up from the back of my hand to the pole.

Panic gripped me.

Where was I?

I was on my back, propped up. The material beneath me was utterly foreign. It was white and stiff, and smelled faintly of bleach—I wasn’t on a hard, damp ground anymore.

I wasn’t in heaven.

I wasn’t in the fiery pits of hell.

I was in the hospital.

How?

My head pounded as I tried to remember what had happened. I struggled to sit all the way up. I needed a phone. I had to call Logan.

Everything was a scattered mess in my head; even his number was a jumble. I was dizzy, light headed, and still I reached for the phone that should have been beside my bed but there wasn’t one there.

I glanced around.

The small amount of rectangular blue sky I could see through the slats of the blinds to my right told me it was daytime. I had no idea what day it was, though, or how long I’d been here.

Clementine. Would she have been waiting for me?

Anxious, I folded the covers back as gently as I could and sat on the edge of the bed. I had to find a phone. I glanced down. My fingernails still had some dirt under them; my legs were clean but bruised, my arms the same. I touched my face. It stung—my lips, my cheek, my nose.

The pole worked well as a crutch for support and I wheeled it into the bathroom before I would make my way into the hall. I looked in the mirror to find a bandage across my cheek; my lips were cut and bruised, and my nose looked slightly burned.

A murmur of voices from outside my door put me on alert. I hurried back to my bed, my pulse skipping.

Who was coming?

When the door handle turned, I held my breath, hoping it was Logan.

But how would he know where I was?

Familiar eyes greeted me. As if I’d been struck by lightning, my body jerked. His eyes. They were the same icy blue eyes as the man who had taken me.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

The room began to spin.

My fingers gripped the sheets.

The noise coming from the machine now sounded as loud as a hammer and I wanted to smash it.

My breathing felt irregular and I took a huge breath. Blinking a few times, I talked myself off of the ledge. Of course, I knew it wasn’t Michael who had abducted me. It couldn’t have been. I’d have known if it was.

Still, fear crept around the periphery of my mind.

“Elle, you’re awake.” He rushed over to me, his cell ringing as he crossed the room.

“Where am I?” I asked. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and I wasn’t sure my words would make sense.

His arms were around me and he was hugging me.

I felt nausea rise in my throat, but swallowed it down.

His cell rang again. The ringing of the cell phone was agitating. Still ignoring it, he pulled back and grabbed my hand as if relieved to see me. “You’re in a hospital in Springfield.”

An anxiety I couldn’t name formed in my chest. I tried not to flinch but I did, and I ended up pulling my hand back. I closed my eyes and attempted to reject the feeling that he had anything to do with my or my sister’s abduction, but in this moment, he was a stranger. Nothing made sense.

His phone was driving me crazy. “Answer it,” I said rather harshly.