Page 101 of Savage Scream

Travis curses under his breath as the nurse leaves again and one look at his expression shows he’s scared. Really fucking scared.

Just as scared as me that our girl will never come back to us.

36

DEE

My lids flutter open, a warm glow lighting my way out of oblivion. My eyes feel like sandpaper as I blink, which seems to match my throat as I try to swallow, silently begging for saliva to build.

As my surroundings become clearer, I realise I’m in a hospital bed in a small room, the mattress hard and plastic-y at my back. My body feels heavy. Exhausted. Like I’m being weighed down by a mountain of rocks, and attempting to turn my head to get a better look around is a real struggle.

Eventually, I manage to move enough that I can see a head of blond hair resting on the bed down near my hand. As feeling starts to waken my body more, I can sense that there is a hand in mine, underneath the resting head.

Jared.

I try to squeeze my fingers, but at first, nothing happens. When I try again, the signal from my brain to my digits registers, and they curl tighter around Jared’s hand.

He doesn’t move. Not at first. So I part my dry lips to try to speak, but I can’t seem to make my voice box work. I frown, I think. It’s really hard to tell, with how drowsy I feel, and I know I need to wake myself up more, so I suck in slow deep breaths, taking in more and more oxygen, in the hopes it will wake me more.

When I feel my head getting clearer, I try to speak again, but all that comes out is a hushed croak.

What the hell happened to me?

Giving up on my voice, something I know I don’t need to get by, I focus back on my hand and give Jared’s hand another squeeze.

The mess of blond hair jerks up, and Jared’s blue, shocked gaze meets mine.

“Dee?” he whispers like he’s not sure it’s me.

Do I look different?

Fuck. I need to find a mirror.

Parting my lips again, I waste a breath on a voice that doesn’t want to come, so I offer him a half smile and try to nod.

I think I nod. If I do, it’s not much of one. My head still feeling woozy.

“Shit, Dee. You’re awake,” he rasps in surprise, so I offer him another small smile and attempt another nod.

His face lights up like it’s Christmas morning, his eyes turning glassy, like he’s about to cry.

“And you’re you,” he whispers again, and I frown.

What?

I’m me?

Well, yes, I’m me. I never haven’t been me. Have I?

Now I’m confused as all hell.

Loosening my hold of his hand, I try to reach up to his face, but my wrist won’t move.

My gaze darts down to the bed, and that’s when I see it. My wrists are in straps, secured to the bed.

My heart kicks into overdrive as I try to lift both wrists, realising they are both definitely tied down.

Some sort of weird fucking whimper escapes me as I shake my head, panic gripping me by the throat, my wide eyes darting to Jared.

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