I fought against the consciousness that threatened to bring me back to a reality I had no desire to live in, but my body refused to stay in the darkness. Once again, I woke up in a hospital bed—a trend I needed to change—but this time I was strapped down to it. I flexed my legs and arms, pulling on the restraints, but whatever drugs they'd given me made me weak as a kitten. No matter. Even my full strength wouldn't have enabled me to break free.
My heart raced as panic gripped me. Gar's face had haunted my dreams, and even awake I couldn't tear out the memory of his death. His blood no longer coated my hands, but that did nothing to ease my conscience. I now understood how Lady Macbeth felt, the compulsion to wash and wash and wash away the guilt of a stained soul.
Of course, that kind of stain never washed clean.
A tear leaked out of the corner of my eye. If I couldn't stay lost in my own dreams, I had to stay focused.
The sterile room offered no unique markings or identifying traits, just a sink, chair, bed, stool, and empty tray. Standard medical supplies lined the walls. Nothing helpful.
I instinctively reached for Drake.
And I reached too hard. 'Sam!' His voice filled my head, crushing my mind with the volume.
"Ouch! Shhhh... don't shout. My head is already pounding."
'I'm not shouting.'
I tried dialing down my link to him, imagining it like a volume control; now that the speakers lay closer, I didn't need it so high.
'Are you okay?' His voice stopped splitting my skull.
"Yes. No. I don't know. Drake... Gar is dead. It's my fault!"
'No. It's their fault, Sam, never yours. Where are you?'
I projected my room to him, and he did the same. Our rooms were identical, but that didn't mean much.
A nurse came in, and—
'That's her, my nurse!' Drake said. 'We must be in the same place.'
At least we had that. Would we try another escape?
"Oh, you're awake!" She looked startled.
"How long have I been unconscious?" I asked Drake.
'Since yesterday.'
Twenty-four hours of my life, stolen. What had they done with Gar? What would they tell his family? He'd died trying to save me, and still I ended up in the hands of the enemy, pumped full of drugs. What would all these drugs do to the baby? I forced myself not to cover my stomach in reflex.
Best to act ignorant for now, see what I can find out. "What happened?" I asked the nurse.
If her nervousness was any indication, she wouldn't tell me the truth, at least not out loud. "Oh, I think it's best if I get Dr. Pana. He can explain everything." At five feet, with dark blond pigtails and freckles under her green eyes, she looked barely old enough to drink legally. Even I looked tall and grown up compared to her. Did adults even wear pigtails? Where did they get this kid?
'I hope I don't get in trouble... she shouldn't have woken up... I hate this job... but the money... need the money... hope Mom and Nick are okay... can't afford to get in trouble again... hate keeping these kids here like animals... not right but what can I do... if only I'd never met these creeps... and getting her pregnant... so awful... wonder what the baby will be like... it's growing too fast... but the dad is totally hot... oh God... I need to stop thinking around her... but no... the drugs should keep her out of my head....'
Maybe she would be an ally.
'Can't stand being around these freaks... feel bad for them but they creep me out... no one should be able to do what they can do... not natural... not the way God made us... abominations... no... I'm doing the right thing... taking care of my family....'
Or maybe not.
She left the room without looking back at me, and I left her mind alone when she started thinking of church and her weekend plans. Interesting that their attempts to control my powers had failed. But definitely advantageous to me.
At least we finally had a few things going for us. They didn't know I could still read minds, and Drake and I were together. Sort of. Now we just needed a way of getting the hell out of here. If not for myself, then for Drake and our baby—and so that Gar's sacrifice wasn't for nothing.
"We need a plan, Drake. We can't stay here."
'Agreed. If we can figure out a way to get these drugs out of my system, we'll have a better chance of escaping.'
With renewed hope, my impatience grew. How long would they leave me lying here in this uncomfortable position? My muscles ached and my head still hurt. My arms had some range of motion, but not much.
The door opened again, and Dr. Pana entered. His energy rushed into me and I fought the false calm it tried to induce. I would not be seduced by this man's powers.
"Hello, Sam, nice to see you again. You're a strong girl. We didn't expect you to wake up so soon."
His syrupy sweet voice, the kind of voice that plotted unimaginable tortures while telling you how lovely the day was, enraged me.
"So I gathered." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Best to stay on neutral ground for now. "What happened?"
He chuckled as if we were old pals. Yeah right. "Oh, I think you know what happened. Your guard made a grave, and ultimately fatal, mistake in trying to escape with you. Did you put him up to that or did he go renegade on his own?"
The moment of truth. How much should I reveal?
Drake answered my question before I could find my own thoughts. 'You need to claim ignorance for as long as possible.'
"And make Gar out to be the bad guy? After everything he did for me?"
'He's dead, Sam. Nothing you do now can hurt or help him. You need to protect yourself. He'd want that for you.'
Sometimes pragmatism and self-preservation left a bad taste in my mouth.
"I have no idea what happened, doctor. My guard went psycho, said he couldn't let me go free, that I would ruin everything."
Did I sound believable? I pushed into his mind and faced a wall, just like last time. When I pushed harder, a sensation of fingers wrapped around my mind and plucked threads of memory from me. Is this what others felt when I read them? I didn't think so.
"You can't read my mind, Sam, but I can read yours, and I know you're not telling me the truth. Maybe some time as our guest will loosen your tongue."
No... this isn't what others felt. This is what it felt like to have my own powers used against me. Shock stunned me, and my brain tumbled around trying to rearrange all I knew into something that made sense. When I put the final piece in place, I gasped.
Dr. Pana smiled, and the overwhelming sincerity of it scared me more than any blatant evil could. "I see you've finally completed the puzzle. Yes, I destroyed your precious art. You caused quite a ruckus with this organization, garnering attention we couldn't allow."
Grief and fear blasted through my body and shook me to my core. "And Mr. K?"
"He won't be bothering us again."
My heart shattered and my lungs stopped working. I coughed out a sob. The fingers around my mind tightened, and my grief burned into pure rage. He had destroyed my life, my dreams, and Mr. K. I would make him pay... for everything.
A stillness settled on my mind, and I stopped fighting his influence. Instead, I observed every detail of the experience, and then I noticed—he was clumsy, unskilled. He couldn't dig deeper, couldn't unearth my secrets. He may have had access to my powers, but he lacked my training and skill. I could use that against him, somehow.
Too much had happened, too many new revelations. I needed time alone to consider, to talk it through with Drake. And I needed access to my own body.
"Can you at least get these restraints off me? It's not like I'm a threat in my current state."
He pushed his body against my hospital bed, blocking any view I had of the door and trapping me in his scent—a cloying blend of too-sweet body odor and too-musky cologne. "That could be arranged. Just remember, Sam, you have no power here. I control you and everyone at this hospital. Don't resist me and don't fight me, are we clear?"
I smiled sweetly. "Crystal."
Like a snake, his skin slithered against mine as he undid the latches on my restraints. I rubbed my raw wrists and ankles, and stretched my sore, cramped body.
"Nurse Susie will be in shortly to show you to your room and explain the rules. Feel free to make yourself at home. We want you to enjoy your stay here, however long it might be." He turned and left.
I tested the limits of my battered body. When I stood, all the blood rushed from my head, leaving my feet feeling heavy and awkward, and my head pounding.
I gripped the railing of my hospital bed and pulled aside my gown to examine myself. Red and purple bruises had created a new map on my pale skin. My stomach curved out in a barely noticeable bump. I wrapped my gown around me before anyone else could see—just in time to avoid the prying eyes of Nurse Susie as she pushed open the door.
The shift of attention offset my balance, and I reached for the nurse's arm to steady myself. She started to shy away, but apparently remembering her job, put her hand on my waist to steady me. She helped me sit in the wheelchair and hold onto my IV pole, and we made our way down the hall.
Bare, boring beige walls led to my new room, which had a twin bed with a blue comforter that looked clean enough. A modest closet, a private—but basic—bathroom, dresser, desk, and a small nightstand by the bed made it seem less like a prison. Any apartment I could have found in the Big Apple would probably have been smaller. The remote next to my bed controlled a television hooked to the wall, beyond my reach. A small barred window overlooking the woods reminded me that I was still in prison. Once again, I wished for Luke's superpower of walking through walls.
"Your personal items have already been put away. I'll bring your meals at 7:30 AM, 12:30 PM and 5:30 PM. If you need anything else, just ring that bell by your bed, and someone will respond immediately." She said this as if to suggest that ringing the bell would be frowned on.
"Am I allowed to go outside, walk around or work out anywhere?"
She eyed me and placed her hands on her hips. "You'll get one hour of outdoor time every day after lunch. There's a gated courtyard where you can take a walk."
"Wow, this is just like I always imagined prison would be."
"I suggest you learn to appreciate what you have here. Not all are so lucky."
I thought of Drake, strapped down and drugged. When was the last time he got to exercise or move around? Better off than him, but lucky? Not so much.
The nurse left me alone in my room, with only the monotony of my new life to occupy my mind.
Thank God I still had my connection to Drake, but first I needed to get cleaned up. They'd stripped me of my bloody, torn dress, but I still smelled of airplane debris and death.
I pulled my IV across the room to my bathroom and used up what little strength remained to wash myself. Dirty water swirled into the drain, and I kept rinsing and washing until that water ran clear. If only I could cleanse my insides so easily.
Sapped to near exhaustion, I searched the closet for clothes—something familiar and comfortable—and found some sweatpants and a t-shirt. I took the IV bag down and pulled it through the sleeve in my shirt, allowing me to dress. I was tempted to tear the damn thing out, but my loving nurse probably wouldn't like that very much.
Once tucked into bed, and before sleep could overtake me, I reached out to Drake. "I think I have a plan."
