Page 11 of Savage Sacrifice
“Uh, Miss Beauchamp?” I offer, and she smirks at me.
“And your first name?” she pushes, being more specific this time, and I sigh, shaking my head.
“I-I don’t know.”
She nods, scribbling something on her clipboard before she returns her attention to me. “When is your birthday?”
I try to filter through my brain, but it’s futile. There is no information stored. Nothing, just the woman standing beside me and the fact that she’s called me Miss Beauchamp a few times.
What the hell is going on?
“I don’t know that either,” I admit, my face heating with embarrassment, but if she notices, she thankfully doesn’t say a word.
“That’s okay. Do you know where you are?”
Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I glance around the room. Aside from the bed I’m slumped in, there’s a window to my left with cabinets nestled beneath it, while a full wall of windows stands to my right. I don’t know what’s on the other side since the blinds are all closed, and the door at the far end of the room has only a small framing of glass, which is frosted.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Tilting my head to see behind me, I notice a machine, the source of the sound that’s been in my dreams. Tubes and wires are linked to the device, and I follow them to where two of them disappear into my right arm. One is on top of my hand, the other is at the crook of my elbow.
“At the hospital?” I breathe, my concern levels growing as I turn my attention back to Nurse Belle, who smiles softly at me.
“That’s right. Do you know why?”
I shake my head instantly. There’s no point even trying to find the information; I know it’s not there.
Belle places her hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly with comfort. “It’s okay. It’s completely normal under such circumstances. That’s why I’m here: to help. And before you know it, you’re going to be on your way home.” Home? I don't even know where that is. “All of your vitals check perfectly. We’ve just been waiting for you to wake up. I believe your friends are doing well too,” she explains, and I frown.
“Friends?”
Her hand drops from my shoulder as she smiles once again. “Yes, but I’m getting ahead of myself. This is going to be a lot of information for you to process, so how about I just focus on you first, okay?”
I nod, rubbing my lips together nervously. “Okay.”
Returning to her clipboard, she runs her fingertip over a piece of paper. “I have here that your name is PolarisBeauchamp. It was your birthday two days ago, making you twenty-one. Your address is listed as on the Hub campus at UCF.”
“UCF?” I repeat, interrupting, and she nods.
“The University of Central Florida,” she explains, and I gape at her in confusion. I don’t understand.
“Why don’t I remember?” I finally ask, the question plaguing me. I don’t want to know because I don’t want it to be my reality, but there’s no avoiding it.
“You were in a car accident with your friends. A drunk driver collided with your car about half a mile from campus. You were in the front passenger seat,” she offers, her voice growing softer as I let the weight of her words take root.
I was in an accident, a terrible one at that, it seems.
“Will I remember?”
“Possibly, but unfortunately, there’s no guarantee. Some do, some don’t.”
Clearing my throat, I lace my fingers together in my lap. “Does my family know?”
Her mouth sets in a thin line, pain radiating in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Polaris. You don’t have any family,” she states, and my chest tightens.
“Oh, okay.” I feel numb inside. She’s right, itisa lot of information to take in. “My friends?”
The smile returns to her face. “They’ll be with you shortly. My colleagues are working with them too, so you should all be able to leave together.”
