Page 42 of Why Not Me?

I make quick work of cleaning up the mess, unwilling to leave it for the cleaning staff. I’m not a complete ass, it wouldn’t be fair to them.

I’m really running late by the time I lock up, late enough that I stop for flowers to soften Allie. Our bags are in my car, but I have a feeling we may need to delay our vacation until tomorrow.

Parking out front, I frown when I notice the lights are out and Allie is nowhere to be seen. Maybe she went home, but she didn’t text. I’m not sure why she would leave, but maybe she forgot to pack something.

An uneasy feeling settles into my gut. Allie is great at communicating, so the fact that I haven’t heard from her and she’s nowhere to be seen isn’t sitting well.

I pick up my phone and call Allie. Straight to voicemail. The churning in my stomach increases as I head to her house, only to find she’s not there either.

I search for Allie, unable to call anyone who might know where she is because I don’t have their contact information. I’m about to head to the police when the phone rings with a number I never thought would ever call me again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Blinking, I try to check out my surroundings, the noises and smells unfamiliar, but everything is out of focus. My eyes are so dry, they burn, and my head starts pounding at the bright lights. The constant beeping matches the throbbing in my head.

Groaning, I lick my dry lips and try to roll to my side, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Owww.” The cry escapes from my lips almost like it’s being torn out.

My entire body hurts.

Where am I?

Clenching my eyes, I try to ground myself before opening my eyes once again. Squinting, I slowly focus on the stark white room around me. As I take in the tell-tale hospital equipment, memories of what happened come flooding to the surface.

The absolute disgust at feeling that vile man’s erection pressing into me makes bile rise in my throat. I lean over the edge of the bed, grasping for the garbage can and lifting it just in time.

My heart rate spikes as I think about all the possibilities of what he could have done to me after he knocked me out and a nurse comes bustling into the room.

“Shhh, you’re okay, honey. I’m going to turn up the morphine and go find the doctor. Just relax, you’re safe.” Her voice is soothing as she fiddles with the IV next to me. Her hair is a mess of curls swaying in a ponytail, her expression concerned as I look at her silently from blurry eyes.

The pain ebbs as the drip takes effect, but I can’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. The physical pain may be gone, but emotionally I feel beaten to a pulp. It’s hard to articulate exactly how I’m feeling right now, all I know is that my life will never be the same.

“What time is it?” My voice is hoarse, I must have been screaming when he knocked me out.

“It’s eleven in the evening. You were brought here by ambulance at around eight forty-five.”

My heart sinks. I have no idea what time he knocked me out at and my mind automatically goes to the worst-case scenario. I never thought something like that would happen in this town. I’ve always felt so safe here. My world has been shattered and I don’t even know how to begin to deal with the influx of thoughts flooding me right now.

The idea of leaving this room, going back out into the world, is overwhelming and terrifying.

Crying out as sobs wrack my body, I fist the sheets in my hands and try to fight off the panic. Squeezing my eyes shut, questions flood my mind. How did I get here? Did he finish what he set out to do?

Is he still out there?

A masculine voice breaks through my thoughts, strong fingers probing my ribs. I can’t hear anything he is saying over the rush of panic.

Screams fill the room and it’s not until that soothing voice belonging to the sweet nurse breaks through that I realize they’re coming from me.

“Shhh, honey, this is Doctor Anders. He’s here to talk to you.” Her cool hand smooths over my forehead before she takes my hand and squeezes it gently.

Opening my eyes, I meet her kind gaze. Her warm brown eyes smiling down at me in concern. “We know you’ve been through something traumatic, but you’re safe now. You’re safe.”

She repeats that I’m safe several times until my eyes clear and my heart rate drops, and then she steps aside so I can meet the gray gaze of the doctor. He’s got to be in his sixties, his graying hair trimmed neatly. The smile he turns on is warm and instantly puts me at ease.

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