Page 123 of Catch the Sun

A shadow moves closer as someone tinkers with something attached to me that burns the back of my hand. Movement is fast-paced. A confusing mess of motion.

I’m scared.

So scared.

I blink the haze from my eyes. I keep blinking, a million times over, until one of the faces morphs into something familiar. Dark hair spills over blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones. A man. A man I know. His eyes are wild and filled with concern. His lips are moving but I can’t hear his words.

I freeze.

Flashes of memory skate across my mind.

That face looming over me.

That same dark hair swinging over two eyes glinting with malice.

Hands grip me, holding me down.

Rocks dig into my back and blood fills my mouth with warm copper.

Screams.

I’m screaming then, and I’m screaming now. My body thrashes and fights. Someone holds me down again. Maybe two people. So many hands, so many voices.

But I’m acutely aware of something else. Something tucked inside my own hand. It’s smooth and small, held tightly in my sweat-slicked palm. I squeeze and squeeze as a sense of calm washes over me. Peace. A peaceful moment.

I drift away to the clearing again.

Sun beats down on my face as Max sits across from me, smiling from his perch against the tree.

I look down at my outstretched fingers.

And there is the little white stone, resting in the palm of my hand.

Chapter 29

Ella

When I wake again, it’s not as loud. Not as violent. My mind is groggy, my eyelids heavy, as I allow my surroundings to take physical form. It feels like there are lemon peels over my eyes as I pry them open, one at a time.

I hear the beeping noise again.

Sunlight from my dreams mutates into brassy, artificial light and a white sheet stares down on me. As my eyes slowly crack open, I blink away the thick film, ceiling panels taking shape from above. I’m in a room, lying on my back. I move my fingers. Wiggle my toes. Noise sounds muffled as it seeps in from behind a…curtain.

I stare at it. It’s cornflower blue, fluttering gently when shapes sweep past it on the other side.

I’m in a hospital bed.

There’s a powder-white blanket pulled up to my chest and an assortment of IVs and needles attached to my body. When I splay my fingers on my right hand, a piece of tape stretches my skin. My mouth is dry, my muscles stiff, and the back of my head itches.

I’ve hardly registered my surroundings when a head of raven hair pokes through the curtain. “Miss Ella,” says a soft voice. “I’m Naomi, one of your nurses.”

I blink at her, taking in her big, braided bun and rose-stained lips. Purple eyeglasses rest on the bridge of her ebony nose as she steps farther into the room.

She smiles warmly. “It’s so good to see those eyes of yours open. How are you feeling? Can you understand me?” Naomi glides over to me, adjusting the bed to make me more comfortable.

“I understand you,” I reply, my voice raspy, barely audible. “What happened?”

“You’re in the hospital. What do you remember?”

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