Page 121 of Destined To Fall

The darkness becomes less bottomless, and a painful self-awareness tickles the edges of my mind. As I come around, I’m aware of three things. Firstly, it’s fucking cold. I feel like I’m lying on ice, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure is actually the ground, possibly concrete. Secondly, everything hurts, and I mean honest to godeverything, and not in the good, fun way; in the I-feel-like-I’m-dying-and-want-to-curl-up-and-never-move-ever-again way. Though Iam sureI knew that already. It doesn’t feel like a new realization. Thirdly, I’m outside, and if the smells are anything to go by, in an alley. Or around some kind of trash area, but it’s too dark to see clearly, and all my senses are muddled.

Flashes of images hit me the longer I stay conscious, and I shift, regretting it instantly, but I need to keep moving. I’m not sure why that is, why I can’t just close my eyes and sleep a little longer. Surely that’ll make the pain go away, but a little voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to wake the fuck up. I get half upright without passing out and catch some light to the side and behind me. I take a shallow, burning breath and move again.

Oh. My. Fucking. Ass. Fuck.

Damn, that hurt. And fuck me, that son of a motherfucking bitch dumped me in an alley. Behind some fucking trash cans.

Wait, wha—oh.

I would rage if I had it in me, but as the night’s events rapidly permeate my newlyconscious state, I realize I should be counting my lucky stars. I’m mostly in one piece, if you disregard all the parts of me that are screaming. Yet I have no idea how I came to be here, or how I ended up in one piece at all, come to think of it, considering the last thing I saw and remember is being strangled to death as that fucker came.

How long have I been out for? What else…nope.

I take the win, as small as it may be, and use it to power me on.

Leveraging myself up, my head spinning the whole while, I manage to get to my feet, finding them bare and almost frostbitten.Peachy. The rest of me isn’t faring much better. I’m in nothing but some kind of baggy T-shirt dress thing, sans underwear, and I can hardly stand, I’m so fucking out of it. This is a great start.

Groaning and cursing up a storm, I stop to take stock of my body before trying to come up with a plan to get out of this shit-show of a situation I’m in. I’m in bad shape. I can’t even lie to myself about that. I can feel everything, as far as I can tell, which is both good and painful. Less likely there is any serious, permanent damage, but fuck, it hurts. I’m banged up real good, but my neck is the worst, I think. Istruggle tomove my head without wanting to scream in agony. Even swallowing or breathing hurts.

“Tes-in-, o-e, tw-, th-ee.”Shit. I sound like a carton-a-day smoker with a tracheostomy.

Fuck.

It’s evident I can’t stay here. I’ll freeze to death before morning. No one will be coming to save me. Hell, I don’t even know where I am, let alone the likelihood of anyone else knowing. With a heavy, resigned sigh, I put one foot in front of the other and make my way toward the scant light and the only clear exit I can see.

The more I walk, the more I realize I’ve been here. I’m sure I have. When my gaze snags on somethingsparklingahead, I know without a doubt where I am. I’m back where we started, at the warehouse, and that’s my clutch, discarded with the rest of the trash.

A small squeal of excitement escapes me, or tries to, but it scrapes against my vocal cords on the way out and gets stuck. Gingerly, I bend, praying my cell is still in it and working, and that I don’t fall ass over tits and can’t get up again.

Success!

One cell phone and one set of keys. The relief I feel is overwhelming. If I wasn’t so utterly exhausted, I think I would sob with joy—until I find the phone dead, that is. Praying it’s got a little juice still in it, I hold the on button down. It blazes to life, but flashes one percent battery. Groaning, Ihurry toopen the maps app and catch sight of exactly where I am, seeing a hospital not far from me before it dies its final death.

With that in mind, and a somewhat clearer picture of where I am, I head for the hospital. I have to stop repeatedly to catch my breath and pick stones out of my aching feet. Not to mention the few times I get a little turned around. What should have been maybe a fifteen minute walk turns into at least thirty, though it feels like I’ve been walking for hours by the time I see the bright lights of the hospital entrance.

As soon as I clear the emergency doors, I collapse to my hands and knees, shaking so violently Istruggle tosee. It’s funny how you can be numb, feel nothing around you, but still be in agony. Bit rude, that.

“Get her up, now. Careful. Jesus Christ, what happened to her?”

The lights swim, and my vision blurs, while my ears ring with white noise. I black out a little here and there but catch some unpleasant words like‘chloroform’,‘hypothermia’, and‘assault kit’. I tune out after that, the numbness taking over. There are too many shining lights and fingers everywhere, stripping me and wrapping me in warming blankets, shoving IV fluids in my arms. Scraping and swabbing me in too many places to count or pay much attention to…

I think I sleep for a while.

I lose track of time, not that I had a great concept of it when I first woke up with the trash. It feels like ages and like the blink of an eye. I’m asked so many questions I barely know my own name at this point, but talking is difficult. I end up having to nod, though that hurts too, so it’s kind of this weird shake/blinking thing with my eyes. The message comes across at least;I think. I’m told I’ll heal fully, though, and that all my tests were negative, including for DNA, but I don’t really pay attention to those details. Negative is all I need to hear. I’m given antibiotics just in case and am offered PEP, but I’m able to explain I get the shots every two months.

Eventually I’m released, against advice but at my insistence. I want to go home and lick my wounds in private.

“Do you have someone who can come get you?”

Do I?

“No.” I croak out.“It’s. Fine. I—okay.”

One of the nurses who’s been tending to me the most frowns, true concern shrouding her soft face. She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a twenty. I smile weakly and thank her, still in a daze. But I try to remember her name as best I can so I can return the favor one day.

Ialmostfall face-first into the cab. It takes the poor driver a few times to get my attention, if his tone is anything to go by.

“So-ry?”

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