Page 78 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“It’s not a problem.”

My breath caught in my chest as I kept my hand on the door. If he tried to come through it, he’d be able to. There wasn’t much I could do in my weakened state.

I needed a weapon, but there wasn’t anything of use in this sterilized bathroom except the foaming hand wash, and unless I put it in his eyes, there wasn’t much else I could do with it. I was helpless against the giant man waiting to kill me.

Silence on the other side of the door killed me slowly as time passed by. Did he leave? I didn’t hear the door close. I exhaled, took a step closer to the door, pressed my ear to the wood, and then held my breath.

Air conditioning whirring.

Distant beeping.

A stagnant roaring of vacant space.

Knock.

Knock.

I jumped in place, my heart bursting in my chest.

“Ma’am?”

Even if he were a legit nurse, there’s no way I’d be able to answer him. My throat constricted as my heart worked overtime, pumping blood into my brain.

What if I’d mistaken his identity? How many people had similar tattoos? If he was here to kill me, wouldn’t he sound angrier or at least try to wrangle me out of the bathroom with a little more desperation? Had my overheated brain caused more paranoia or hallucinations?

My heart rate skipped as it sped, my feet inched away from the door.

Knock.

Knock.

I vaulted backward, jerking my hand to my chest as if the sound bit me and stumbled, my spine slamming into the towel bar.

“Adelaide? Are you okay?” The door jiggled as he rattled the knob. “Why is the door locked?”

I rushed for the door and opened it, throwing myself into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“He was here,” I mumbled into the crook of his neck as I tried climbing the length of his body.

“Who was here?” His voice lowered, sending chills down my legs as he gripped my shoulders.

“The guy with the banded tattoo on his arm. The mercenary.”

He pulled me from his chest despite my desperate grasp to keep him close to me. “What guy? There wasn’t anyone in here.”

“He’d dressed like a nurse. He tried to get me to come out of the bathroom.”

“Adelaide, I was at the nurses’ station across the hall the entire time. No one came in or out.”

“He was here,” I cried, refusing to believe my mind deceived me. “I know he was. He messed with my IV bag.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Okay. Okay. Don’t cry.”

“Can we go home? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

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