Page 12 of Savage Sacrifice
“And everyone survived?” I ask, nerves thrumming through my veins, and she nods.
“Except the drunk driver, you’re all with us. Now, your belongings are in the closet to the far left. I’ll give you some time to gather yourself while I finish filing all of my paperwork. Then we can get you out of here, alright?” she states, moving tomy right arm, swiftly removing the needles from my skin, and I wince, but no pain comes.
Once she’s placed a small bandage over each spot, she leaves without a word, the door clicking shut behind her. I don’t move, letting the weight of her words fall over me as I stare up at the ceiling.
Polaris Beauchamp.
Twenty One.
The Hub at UCF.
No family.
Friends.
That’s not a lot to know about someone, let alone yourself.
I need to know more, I need answers, and I guess I’m not going to get them if I just lay here in this bed. The overwhelming delirium that washes over me is intense, bringing tears to my eyes, but I don’t shed them. Not one. I have to be strong. If I was strong enough to survive such a tragic accident, then I’m strong enough to keep myself together.
Determined, I pull the sheets back and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
My feet don’t touch the floor until I shuffle off, but the moment they connect, I sway, needing a moment to gain my balance.
After taking a few deep breaths, I gain the control I need to head toward the far cabinet she mentioned. Crouching, I brace myself before I open the cabinet door to reveal my belongings.
There’s a stack of neatly folded clothes on the top shelf: a plain white tee and a pair of denim jeans, and on the shelf below them is a pair of off-white sneakers. Apart from the clothes and footwear, there’s a small purse.
That’s it.
Nothing else.
Bundling them all into my arms, I head back to the bed, opting to change out of my hospital-issued gown and into the fresh clothes. It takes me a while, but once I’m changed, I feel good. Good enough to look inside the purse at least.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed before I peer inside. There’s a cell phone with no battery, a pen, a journal, and a set of keys along with a wallet.
A hint of disappointment swirls inside of me.
Nothing here explains who I am, as I was hoping, but I guess figuring that out isn’t going to be easy.
A knock comes from the door, pulling me from my thoughts, and a moment later, Nurse Belle appears. “Ready?” she asks with a wide smile, and I nod.
I don’t think so, not really, but I guess I’m just going to have to convince myself that I’m okay.
“Perfect. Your friends have also been discharged now, if you would like to join them. I should let you know, though. They are also having memory issues at this moment. It’s a blessing and a curse, I guess. You’re all in the same boat at least,” she offers, and I nod again.
Quickly placing everything back inside my purse, I hitch it over my shoulder and head toward the door. As I reach the threshold, I glance back over my shoulder, taking in the room one last time before I follow her out into the hallway.
It’s quieter than I expect. Although, I don’t know what I was supposed to expect either. If I’ve ever been in a place like this before, I don’t remember.
The corridor is white, clinical, and lifeless, and the feeling continues as I round the corner to a small waiting area with a row of blue seats spread out. Three people stand, huddled awkwardly together, and they each turn my way as we approach.
“The gang is back together,” Nurse Belle says with a smile, but none of us match it, each eyeing the other with a senseof curiosity. “The exit is just down the hall to your right. Any concerns, the security guards there will be there to help you,” she explains before turning on her heels, ready to head back where she came from.
But something is niggling me, something about her.
“Nurse Belle,” I call out, and she pauses, taking a moment to turn back, but when she looks over her shoulder, her eyes find mine. I gulp nervously, feeling even more dumb now, but I’ve stopped her in her tracks. The least I can do is say what I was going to say. “Do I know you? Like, more than this moment. Have we met before?” I ask, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“I don’t believe we have,” she murmurs after a moment, running her tongue over her bottom lip, and I nod.
