Page 25 of Day Shift

But no. After a moment of silence, the chair scraped against the floor. With a sigh, he started into a new song. He sang that he was not giving up on me, and his voice had such a commanding intensity that I knew he believed his words alone could break through the thickness in my brain and release me from my silent bonds. God, how I wanted them to.

As he had done during his other visits, he continued to play and sing until someone told him it was time to go. The chair softly creaked under his shifting weight when he stood. A muffled thud followed as he settled his guitar into its case, followed by the metallic clicks of the latches. And then he walked away, his footsteps shuffling across the floor. I couldn’t bear for him to leave.

I had no concept of time, and I had no idea what had landed me in such a predicament, but my instinct was to fight—to resurface and find answers.

Every inch of my body ached. Gravity seemed to press down three times harder than it should have. Oh my God, I had to break free.

Anger and frustration simmered deep in my core. The monitor keeping time to my heartbeat ratcheted up. The pounding in my skull sent a shock wave of pain cascading through every nerve. There was nothing left for me to do but scream.

I unleashed a shrieking sound unlike any that had ever come from me before. I squeezed my eyes tight, and my face contorted from all the emotions that had been bound and twisted inside me for however long I’d endured this ordeal. Unable to remain still a moment longer, I bolted upright, and the noise morphed into a wail that went on and on for what seemed like eons.

A gentle hand stroked the side of my arm. “Shh, you’re okay. Just take some slow, deep breaths for me.” I recognized the kind voice; it belonged to one of my nurses.

Gulping in a huge breath, I stopped screaming. Each inhale and exhale sounded loud in my ears. The nurse tried to guide me to lie back, but I fought her, keeping my eyes shut as I flailed around.

“How about I raise the head of your bed so you can rest upright for now?” she calmly suggested. The bed rattled, and soon the mattress rose to meet my back, allowing me to relax against it.

I swallowed hard and ever so cautiously peeked through my eyelashes, taking in my surroundings for the first time. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I slowly opened them to see a nurse with a kind, round face standing next to the bed. Another nurse stood in the doorway, syringe in hand, at the ready.

“See, you’re okay,” the kind nurse said. “You were in a car accident a while ago, but you’ve come a long way. Soon, we’ll have you up and about. For now, you have to try to stay still and allow yourself to adjust, to finish healing.” She checked some of the tubes attached to my arms. “Can you stay calm, or should I have Katie over there give you some medicine to help?”

“No!” I said, the word coming out in a rasp. “Please, no more meds.” The scratchiness of my voice surprised and irritated me.

She laid her hand on top of mine.

“Don’t touch me!” I shouted.

“Okay, no worries,” she said, turning and waving off the other nurse and taking a step back. “I’m sure you’re feeling very confused. My name is Emily. If you need me, just push this button.” She handed me a remote control that was attached to the side of the bed. “Sit here for a minute while I get you some water to sip on. We’re in no rush. I’ll be right here to help you and answer all your questions.”

Emily quickly brought a cup of water with a straw. She advised that I go slow and only drink a little at a time. The cool liquid helped temper the flames in my throat. She told me to relax for a few minutes and maybe watch a little TV before the doctors came by to check on me. I thanked her but chose to sit in silence. I needed to gather my thoughts.

Shifting my hands to my lap, I stretched out my fingers. All present and functional, thank God. My eyes slid up my arms. Stuck in my wrist was…what was that thing called? Oh yeah, the word was IV. There were bruises too, an entire road map of them. Carefully, I raised my knees, sliding the bottoms of my feet along the smooth fabric beneath. I checked to see if I could wiggle my toes. Yes, they all seemed fine as well.

I was overwhelmed and groggy. My thoughts were disjointed, like I was physically having to push them uphill just to connect one with the next. I had so many questions. What happened? Where was I? What day was it? I glanced around for clues. Outside, the sun was low in the sky. It must be evening. Oh, wait, maybe the day was just dawning?

I didn’t know who I was or how I’d gotten here. I had so many questions. And each question demanded an answer, but I had none. Zero.

The walls seemed to close in around me. My breaths became quick and frantic. I knew I had better get it together. If I didn’t, they would come back with more drugs. My brain was bleary enough as it was. I didn’t want that to happen.

My chest tightened, each breath shallow and rapid, my pulse pounding in my ears. I gripped the edge of the bed, my knuckles turning white, trying to ground myself. Panic clawed at my mind, threatening to drag me under, and I fought desperately to stay in control, to not let the fear consume me.

Chapter sixteen

Just as I pushed through the doors and stepped out into the cool evening air, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting a message from someone I knew, or some spam, but it was a text from Emily in the ICU. The message made my heart jump: Jane Doe’s awake, disoriented, and freaking out. Can you come by? Might help to have a familiar presence.

“Shit,” I muttered, spinning on my heel and charging back through the ED corridors. I caught Atticus just as he was about to disappear into another room. “Hey, Jane Doe’s awake!”

His head snapped up, eyes wide. “Seriously? All right, go. I’ll be there soon if I can.”

I nodded and sprinted toward the ICU, my boots thudding loudly against the floor.

As I passed the hospital’s gift shop, something caught my eye—a small, fluffy teddy bear perched among some gift baskets and flower arrangements. A thought struck me. Maybe something soft and nonthreatening would ease her nerves when she saw a big-ass tattooed guy entering her room. I dashed in, grabbed the teddy bear, threw some cash at the clerk without waiting for change, and kept moving.

The ICU was as quiet as ever, so I slowed down as I approached her room, not wanting to burst in like some kind of storm.

“Hey, Emily,” I panted when I reached the nurses’ station, brandishing the teddy bear like a carnival prize.

“She’s been pretty upset since waking up,” she replied.

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