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Blood, Jenna, more blood, the sound of glass shattering.
“Jesus Christ,” someone groans when I lurch to life, vomiting over the side of whatever operating table I’m on. My vision swims, my head spinning as I wretch the empty contents of my stomach. “Well, she’s awake.”
“It’s about time.”
“Lay back,” the voice of a woman snaps and someone shoves me down until my head hits the table below. Bright lights sit above me, nearly blinding me, but a face looms over me, blocking it out.
“Hannah, I’m Doctor Pat. I’ve been treating your wounds.”
“Where . . . where am I?” I’m surprised at the croakiness of my own voice.
“You’re where you’re supposed to be,” she answers, pushing the horn-rimmed glasses back up her nose. “You had a nasty accident. Don’t you think it would have been better if you would have just complied?”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Well,I’mnot. I don’t know what their plan is for you, yet, but I do know . . . you’respecial.” She says that last part like she can’t for the life of her figure out why.
Tears burn in my eyes as she dabs alcohol on a cut on my arm. I don’t care. I barely feel it. It’s what’s inside that’s ripping me to shreds.
Mason. He probably knows I’m gone by now. God only knows what happened when I didn’t show up. Tears burn in my eyes and a rush of agony courses through me.
“I don’t want to die.”
“Well, we all die eventually,” Nurse Ratched says as matter of fact as she would speak about the weather. “We all have sins to pay for. Just sometimes, we end up paying for the sins of others, too.”
“Why are you doing this? My mother?”
“Your mother will pay for her sins, too. As did your sister. My only concern is getting your arm bandaged so I can go home. I’m going to miss my show because of you.”
In another world, she could be someone’s mother or grandmother. She could be sweet and bake cookies and do other fun shit old people like to do. Not in this universe, though.
“Listen,” I whisper because the two assholes that tried to grope me are across the room, chatting about a football team. “They’re going to come after you. No one here is safe.”
She fixes me with a sardonic look.
“My, you Gaines’ are really all the same, aren’t you?”
My heart drops.
“You know why I do this, Hannah?”
Somehow, I have the grace to shake my head.
“Because they allow me to do whatever I want. They pay far better than anything you’ll be able to scrounge together and this isn’t a regulated facility. If you die, well, then you die.”
She finishes the bandage on my arm and sits back to admire her handiwork. Ironically, my bandage has princesses on it.
I don’t feel like a fucking princess.
“A word of advice,” she clucks, cleaning up the mess she left from working on me. “Don’t fight them. It’ll only make it worse.”
And then, as if I’m a piece of trash, she claps her hands.
“She’s done. Take her away.”
“Wait!” I rush, but they’re already coming for me. I try to scramble from the table, but my head spins and I wobble the moment my feet touch the floor, nearly passing out.
Nurse Ratched has the audacity to hand me a pack of crackers and a single bottle of water.
