Page 85 of The Toy Collector

As I realize I can’t answer that question, alarms vibrate under my skin, trying to rouse me. But I’m too tired. A part of me doesn’t want to wake up. Apart from the smell, I’m actually quite comfortable. I’m warm, and the darkness calling me back with open arms is alluring. I think I’m smiling as I move toward it, letting it engulf me again.

“Can you hear me, Toy?”

“Leave her alone,” someone snaps. A woman. “She’ll wake when she’s ready.”

There’s a low growl. “She fucking moved. I felt it.”

The darkness loosens its grip on me enough that I can hear the soft beeps of a machine. The sound is almost hypnotic. Like a song I’m meant to answer, but I don’t know how.

When I open my eyes, I’m met with a blinding white ceiling I don’t recognize, and I immediately try to sit up. But wires snag at my body, holding me in place like tentacles. Panic climbs up my throat, making it hard to breathe.

I call out, my voice raw and fractured.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My skin prickles under the scratchy sheets. I squeeze my eyes shut, try to shut out everything. But it’s too much. My head throbs, and my limbs ache. I try to push up again, but the wires pull against me, and everything collapses.

“Easy, Little Toy.”Enzo.His voice is the only thing I can hold on to. It’s gravity. “I’m here.” His hand tightens around mine, anchoring me.

I look into his eyes… wait. I can see more than that. I can see his entire face.

Not sure if I’m imagining it or not, I blink against the blur. But as my vision clears, I still see him. With no blindfold or Halloween masks, this is the first time I get an unobstructed view of him.

His face is all sharp lines, cheekbones that could cut diamonds, lips I know to be soft and demanding. His jaw is clenched tight as though it’s the only thing keeping him from unraveling.

And those eyes… God, those piercing, cold and electric blue eyes. They keep me in place and strip me bare. My breath catches as I continue to stare. And he stares right back like I’ve finally caught up. Like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than I can understand.

“What’s happening?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“You’re in my medical facility.” He speaks so evenly, like that explains everything. “You’re safe.” I want to believe him, and when I focus on his eyes, I do.

I push up again, desperate to feel in control. To feel anything but helpless. But my head spins, the world going black. When I open my eyes again, he’s closer. Leaning over me. He’s so close his nose brushes my cheek, and I can feel his breath against my skin.

“Shh.” He’s relentless. “You’ll be fine.” I want to believe him. I want to not feel so lost. But I can’t even remember getting here.

“Am I dead?” I ask.

He chuckles, but it sounds all wrong. “Try not to move,” he says, his hand finding my shoulder, holding me in place. It feels solid, real. The wires slacken as I sink back against the bed. The room tilts, and I close my eyes, just for a moment. Just to shut out the brightness and the sharpness and the uncertainty.

When I open them, a woman is here. She moves quickly, efficiently. Checks the IV drip, checks the beeping machine, checks me. Her eyes are clear and unflinching, and I don’t know why, but it makes my skin feel tight.

“You must be feeling disoriented.” Unlike the room, her voice is warm and soothing. “But you’ll make a full recovery.” She doesn’t ask. She states. Enzo’s hand never leaves mine, not even as she examines me.

“Who are you?” The question takes too much effort. I’m too tired, too raw to care about the answer. “No, wait. I know you,” I croak.

“Yes, we’ve met before. I’m Dr. Voss.” She gives me a brief smile. “You’re lucky to have someone so devoted.” She nods toward Enzo, but he doesn’t react. His eyes are onme, searching, intense.

“What happened?” It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, to focus on anything but the heaviness of my own body.

“You were drugged.” She checks the machine again, adjusts a setting I don’t understand. Her fingers are quick and mechanical. “I’ve flushed your system, so you’ll be fine. You’ll need rest, but as I said, you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Drugged… rest,” I repeat, the words sounding foreign, like something I’ve never heard before.

“I’m afraid so. Two weeks of complete bed rest should do it. And of course, I’ll want to do some follow-up tests.” She writes something on a chart, hands it to Enzo like he’s the only one who needs to see it.

“Of course,” I huff, not even bothering to hide my growing annoyance.

Dr. Voss presses her lips together in what looks like a tight line. I have the feeling it’s to hide her smile. At least if the spark in her eyes is anything to go by. “We’ll be monitoring your progress closely. But you’re in good hands with this one.” She pats Enzo’s shoulder, and even though Dr. Voss is old enough to be my mother, I’m not okay with her touching him.

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