Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I manage to whisper.
His jaw grinds like I’ve said something wrong, but he doesn’t speak as he continues to examine me.
“So she’s awake.” A man’s voice has my head jerking away from Drex to look past him.
A doctor is walking toward me, carrying a transparent cup of ice cubes and a glass of water. Drex reluctantly moves out of his way, and I wonder why a nurse isn’t bringing me things.
On the bright side, my mind seems to be functioning properly once again. I guess eighteen hours of sleep and some fluids running into me via IV is a good cure for going crazy from dehydration, hunger, and sleep deprivation.
Drex sits down on the bed near my feet, and I quietly allow the doctor to go through the motions of inspecting my eyes with a light, feel the outside of my throat with his fingers, and a few other random things.
“You, little girl, are one tough cookie. Glad to see you so alert and sitting up. Pupils are responding excellently, nothing seems to be swollen more than normal, and your blood tests have all turned out fine. The infection has been taken care of, but you’ll need to continue your antibiotics.” Infection? He turns to face Drex. “How was she sleeping? Restless? Peaceful?”
Drex opens his mouth to answer, but Sarah chooses that time to walk in and answer for him.
“She sleeps peacefully when Drex is with her. Not so much when he’s not.”
Drex grimaces like that’s a bad thing. It probably just has to do with comfort. It pisses me off that I need to feel comfort right now, but… Fuck. I’m not invincible. What really sucks is the fact he seems to hate that I’m apparently subconsciously comforted by his presence.
Bristling, I start getting annoyed with the doctor’s thorough inspection, especially when he messes with my tender wrists that are wrapped loosely.
“The wound dressings need to be changed. I can do that in just a little bit though. Do you know where you are?”
I nod but don’t attempt to speak.
He frowns like that bothers him, so I point to my throat, silently telling him it’s sore. That leads to him forcing my mouth open so he can shine his light into my throat.
“Just a little raw from dryness. Suck the ice cubes first. Then try to drink some water. Don’t drink it too fast though. Wouldn’t want you to upset your stomach. We’ll get you some soup sent up to see if you can manage eating something light. Nothing heavy for a few days until you work up to it.”
Drex finally speaks. “No offense, doc, but I don’t trust your cafeteria. Tell Sarah what kind of soup she needs, and she’ll get her anything.”
The doctor frowns but nods. Then he turns back to me.
“No sign of a concussion, but how do you feel? I have a psychiatrist who can come speak to you discreetly. She’s a close friend of mine, and she will be—”
“No,” I interrupt, whispering the word and wincing before grabbing the ice cup and sucking a few crushed pieces down my throat.
He frowns while looking over at Drex like he’s my freaking caretaker and in charge of my decisions.
“She needs to speak to someone. Normally it would be hospital policy.”
Drex looks at me, studying me. “If she wants to speak to someone, she can. If she doesn’t, then she won’t.”
Fairly sure I roll my eyes. I’m being talked about as though I’m not sitting right here.
“Very well, but it’s a standing offer if you change your mind.”
Clearing my sore throat, I speak again. It’s hoarse and strained, but it works well enough.
“I won’t give Ben the satisfaction of thinking he broke me.”
Both men look at me, and Sarah walks closer, smirking as she takes a seat on the bed. She looks over at Drex, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You boys keep forgetting we have to be tough to handle you.”
Drex’s jaw tenses, but he motions with his head for the doctor to follow him out so they can speak in private. The second the door shuts, Sarah turns to me.
“How are you really doing?” she asks sincerely.
Talking hurts, but I make myself. “I’ve seen better days. It felt like I was down there for a long time. Much longer than I probably was—”
“Four days,” she says quietly. “Almost five.”
“Felt like a month or two.”
She nods like she understands, but I don’t know how she could.
“When the nightmares come, and they will, learn to fight back in your mind. It’s the only way to defeat the nightmares,” she whispers quietly. “The nightmares are usually worse than the real thing was.”
My eyebrows go up, and she looks down.
“Really, Eve, you should probably talk to someone.”
“He starved me, kept me awake, and left me to dehydrate. It’s not exactly a few days in paradise, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I’m more grateful than anything that my worst nightmares didn’t come true.”