Page 69 of Provoke You

“No. I want to hang out for bit.” Matt had already been gone for twenty-five minutes.

I surveyed the room around me. The white subway tiles had a shine to them I didn’t remember. Or was it always like that? I took a long swig from my glass, suddenly feeling thirsty and hot.

Jack refilled my water. “So spill it. What does your new guy do? Where is he from? Size? Everything.”

I giggled and leaned on the counter. “I’ll tell you all about it. But first, I have to pee.”

“Oh fine. Leave me hanging,” he called after me.

I went past the bathrooms, toward the front door of the main dining room. I needed air instead. The restaurant was stifling. When I reached the curb, Dad’s black car was parked on the other side of the street. I glared at it, trying to make out movement in the back seat, but the windows were so dark it was impossible to see.

Something wasn’t right. My throat felt dry, and it was seriously hotter out here than it was inside the restaurant. Did that guy give me something when he touched me?

My feet shuffled back as I tried to keep my balance. The more steps I took back, the less balance I had. Before I could stop it, the sidewalk shifted from under me, and then I was facing a dark and blurry sky, seeing red stars from when my head hit the cement. Shit. I blinked several times, and Dad’s face came into focus.

“Ela.” He fisted his hand.

“Dad, I swear I wasn’t drinking. Someone gave me something.”

He shook his head, hooking his arm under my neck and then my knees. I closed my eyes, and everything went dark with a few red blotches. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wake up. Did I really see Dad? Or was that a dream?

I sat in the dark, floating. The back of my throat was so dry. The more I drank from my glass, the more it hurt. But I couldn’t stop. “No more,” I told my hand, but it kept coming up to my mouth to make me drink.

It was like being in the lake again, submerged in darkness and unable to breath. I inhaled, but that only made my chest hurt. The glass came up to my lips again, and the liquid slid down my throat. It burned its way down to my stomach. I heaved, but nothing happened.

The red blotches in my eyes got brighter. I tried to wake up, but I couldn’t. Like in one of my worst nightmares, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream or fight back. “Ela, wake up,” I said to myself. “It’s only a bad dream. Wake up.”

I felt so tired. I wanted the bad dreams to go away so I could rest. Why was I so tired? My eyes fluttered open, and I smiled. I was in a bed. Let me sleep, I wanted to say to the person talking to me, but she wouldn’t stop talking.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked. Her scrubs clued me in, but I couldn’t understand how I’d gotten here.

“You’re in the hospital. Is there anyone you need me to call?”

The overhead bright lights stung my eyes. I raised my arm to protect my face, but a bunch of tubes stopped me.

“Stay still, hon.” The nurse tucked my arm tight under the sheets.

The wheels of the bed I was on squeaked and turned against the grooves of the floors so loud my head felt as if it might explode.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive. Is there anyone we can call? The guy who brought you in didn’t know who you were. He thought you were dead.”

“I was with Dad.”

“No. I don’t think so. The person who brought you in was about your age, blond hair, blue eyes. Do you know anyone like that?” The walls on either side of us flashed by my peripheral vision, but the nurse kept pace with me, shooting questions at me and adjusting the saline bags hanging from the bed.

“I don’t understand. I was at a restaurant, and then I got sick. My dad was there.”

“Who’s your dad, hon?”

“Andre Benoit. I’m Ela LeBlanc,” I mumbled. They’d know how to find Dad. All they had to do was Google his name or mine. But the only person I wanted here with me was Matt. Where the hell was he? He’d said he’d come back for me. I waited, didn’t I? At the bar, I’d waited with Jack, and that creepy guy was there. The one who pricked me.

Blond hair, blue eyes? The guy at the bar fit that description. Did he do something to me? “I think he drugged me.”

“Okay. I have to ask. Will you be needing a rape kit?”

Tears streamed down my cheek. Shit. I didn’t know, but other than the massive hangover-type headache and twisted stomach, nothing else hurt. “No, I don’t think so.”

“The guy who brought you was really scared, but he was also so drunk.”

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