Book I - ch 3. Twenty Questions and No Clue

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“I love you…” Sarah whispered.

The words were lost. Like her mother, her room, and whatever peace there was, they dissipated as the dream came to an end.

Sarah woke up slowly, unwilling to let go of the place where her life was still intact. At first, she kept her eyes closed out of stubbornness more than anything. Then it was out of fear as the fog slipped away from her thoughts, revealing the memory of what had happened. She hardly dared to move, afraid of what she would find waiting for her.

Patching the fragments of memory together did nothing to shed light on her current whereabouts. She remembered falling and little else after that, except for dreaming of home. The vivid feelings that had accompanied the dream tugged at her insides and she pressed her eyes tighter shut as tears threatened to emerge.

When she shifted her focus away from her own thoughts, she became aware of voices somewhere close by—faint ones, but voices.

How much time had passed?

If she had fallen a few minutes ago, she should hear the storm, but there was no sound of rain. She was clearly lying down somewhere soft, and even through her closed lids she knew it wasn’t dark out there… And out there didn’t seem to be out anywhere.

As far as she could tell, she was in bed. Might be a hospital, but it didn’t smell like one.

Her head was throbbing.

There was no movement or sound directly around her, so she wondered if she should open her eyes. A cowardly part of her didn’t want to. It wanted her to go back to sleep, back to that place where nothing had changed. Where her family—

A sudden thump—like someone punching the wall—drew her attention to what was going on right outside the room.

“No, I’m straight out calling you a liar!” a shout sounded clearly enough that she wondered if there was a door ajar somewhere in the vicinity.

The voice was vaguely familiar, but such rage didn’t feel like it should belong there. An argument followed, a brief outburst of sound that lasted no more than a breath. Everything was then silent.

She held her breath involuntarily, wondering if anyone had noticed she was awake. But the argument continued, with another voice coming through in almost a whisper. She couldn’t make out who was speaking, but the reply was very much audible.

“You shut up!”

That’s when she recognized it beyond a doubt. She’d had those specific words shouted at her enough times before.

Robyn!

Sarah opened her eyes. The light, brighter than she expected, stabbed at her eyes. She raised a hand instinctively to shield them, and the pain in her chest caught her by surprise. It almost overshadowed the sharp pain in her arm.

She held in a cry, but a whimper like that of a wounded animal escaped her. When even sucking in a deep breath hurt, she remained as still as she could. The world darkened around her, and she wondered whether she missed more than a few seconds.

Tears started forming in her eyes, but she didn’t dare move to wipe them. There was IV in her left arm, and some other tube was responsible for the dull discomfort in her nostril. She licked her dry lips and swallowed what little saliva she could muster, but it felt like swallowing sand.

She could barely turn her head, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught glimpses of fluid bags and monitors attached to the wall.

The room, small and sterile-looking, reminded her of a hospital, but there were no tables or windows. Hell, there was no TV. There was a chair in the corner and that was it.

There was a haze in all her thoughts, as if she hadn’t quite woken up, and beyond that haze there was still a splitting headache.

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When she got her breathing more or less under control, the pain lessened. Turning her head was a minor challenge, but she found the door. It was slightly ajar, which would explain why it’d been so easy to hear the previous argument.

The voices were gone now. Nothing remained but an eerie silence that served no other purpose than to plant the seed of doubt in her mind. The argument and Robyn’s voice could’ve been imagined. If so, she should’ve imagined something good, or at least comforting. But maybe hearing Robyn’s voice amidst a heated argument was all the comfort her mind could afford her.

Pain kept her from sitting up. As if it didn’t know what else to do, the world spun and darkened again.

“Robyn?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper she barely recognized as her own.

Her gaze didn’t move from the door, half hoping and half fearing that someone would come. She could no longer swear she’d heard Robyn’s voice.

Sarah steeled herself and tried calling her sister again. This time it was clearly audible, if barely more than a croak, but there was no response.

“Robyn!” she shouted—or tried to. It scratched through her throat and was still not any louder than her speaking voice.

Her vision swam, and she closed her eyes, riding out the pain in her chest as she tried her best to impersonate a statue.

She scratched at the stupid tube stuck to her face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice startled her, more so because it was not the voice she’d been hoping for.

She opened her eyes and turned her head towards the sound.

“Welcome back.” There was a random guy standing there, smiling. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

Sarah searched her mind for the familiarity that came from him.

Dark hair, though it was dry and combed, and now she could see his eyes were some pale shade of blue. He was around Robyn’s age—closer to thirty than twenty, as Robyn liked to describe herself, mathematically incorrect as that may be at twenty-four.

He’d surely know she recognized him as soon as she tensed, but she couldn’t help it. His hand raised in a calming gesture, and he took a small step in her direction.

“You chased me,” she whispered.

He gave her a sheepish sort of smile. “You ran.”

“Where—?” She struggled to get her voice out again. “Where’s—”

“Hold on. Try not to speak too much.”

“Do you remember waking up a few days ago and freaking out?”

She shook her head slightly.

He picked up an aluminum cup from somewhere behind her. “I’ll get you some water if you promise you won’t toss it at me this time. I just showered.”

Sarah wasn’t sure she should apologize for anything. There was only a blank between the fall and now. No, not true. There was the dream of home.

He vanished through a door she hadn't noticed before, and a faucet was turned on shortly after. When he returned with the water cup and offered it to her, Sarah realized the weight of her own arm when it barely lifted from the bed. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold the cup, never mind throwing it.

“May I help you?” He brought her hand to the cup, holding both it and the cup, guiding it to her lips. “Just sip for now. We need to make sure you can swallow without issues.”

Water slid down her sore throat, but he pulled the cup away too soon.

“I should really get at least one of the nurses. I don’t pay nearly enough attention to these medical things for you to trust me with this.”

She started shaking her head, pain the only thing that restrained her. Would they sedate her again? Is that why she’d been asleep for so long? Her eyes darted about the room again until he placed a hand on hers. Labored breathing triggered the pain in her chest. “Whe—” Her voice refused to come out this time and she reached for the water again.

Despair rose. Was her mind really playing tricks on her by giving her Robyn?

Was it all a dream? Just like the rest, just like home and Mom… She sucked in a breath, and that only made the pain stab at her chest again.

Her captor—because that’s who he was to her until someone proved otherwise—looked concerned.

“Sarah, please calm down.” He brought the chair closer to her bed and sat down. “It’s ok, I won’t call anyone for now.”

“Who—” Her voice failed, and she struggled to make even her lips move as how she wished them to.

He offered her the water cup again, and she managed to guide his movement a bit.

Again it felt only like a temporary salve. “Who are you? Where the hell am I? Where’s Robyn?”

“Doc said you might still be out of it for a while, so take it slow. I don’t know if you remember, but you had a really nice fall. We brought you here and our doctors have been looking after you. Now that you’re awake, we’ll see about starting to get rid of some of these tubes. But please be patient. Try to stay still and talk slowly. Trust me, it’ll hurt less.”

She glared at him, ready to start her questions over.

“Your sister was here a moment ago. She’ll be back in a few minutes. As to where the hell you are…” He let out a breath. “I’ll let Robyn fill you in on the details later.”

“You forgot one.”

He frowned, though she couldn’t tell whether he was pretending. “Did I?”

“Who’re you?”

He smiled. “That one can also be left for later.”

She twisted the corner of her mouth, her eyes narrowing. Maybe she should be afraid, but she wanted answers, and fear wouldn’t get them. “My parents?”

He became instantly serious.

The question lingered in the space between them. In that time, she had her answer, even if she wished to deny it. His reluctance to speak was enough.

Tears started welling up again, and she turned her head to try and escape his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Struggling to hold back her tears, she latched onto her anger as a defense. It would get her past this instant, if nothing else. It was easy to be angry at this stranger. He was the reason she was lying in a hospital bed—her suspicions about this not being a hospital notwithstanding. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Well, besides the fall, a couple of broken ribs, and the fact that your heart tried to stop beating, nothing.”