Page 9 of Lose to Win: Lost Trilogy: Part 3
Emily
My head hurts so bad,and I am struggling to open my eyes. I let out a loud moan when I finally manage to crack them open, but the light is stabbing my eyeballs in a painful way.
“Fuck, she’s waking up already,” a voice sounds from somewhere.
My stomach doesn’t feel too good either. In fact, I think I need to throw up. I gag for a second, but nothing comes out, which makes it all even worse.
“She’s getting sick,” the same voice yells. “Hurry the fuck up. I don’t need her puking all over me.”
It seems as if we are in a car, and the movement of the vehicle is not helping at all, especially when we hit a pothole.
“What’s happening?” I squeeze my eyes shut again and bring my hands up to cover my face. I need to anchor my thoughts in something, and I am the only option right now.
“See if you can give her some of that so she can sleep some more,” someone says, and I swear I can recognize the voice, but I can’t quite place it.
I don’t have time to think about it too much because something covers my nose, and I start feeling incredibly sleepy again. I close my eyes and just relax, my head not even hurting as much anymore.
Next thing I know, I am being moved from the vehicle and into some sort of a warehouse like building.
“She’s heavier than she looks,” the person carrying me huffs while walking inside.
“There’s nothing wrong with her,” his partner replies, and once again, I am struck by how familiar the voice sounds.
I grunt when my back hits a semi soft surface. I mean, it’s not as hard as the floor would be, but it is close.
“Be careful with her, please,” the creep with the familiar voice says.
I bring both hands up to my face and try to rub the sleep from my eyes. I need to focus and figure out what’s happening.
“Emily,” the familiar voice calls closer to my ear, making me jump in distress. “You’re going to be okay. You just need to listen to these guys, okay?”
I struggle but finally manage to open my eyes. I see the industrial looking ceiling of the building we’re in. I’m scared to turn my head and see who is talking to me. But when I do, I almost start screaming.
“Shh, don’t be scared,” David tells me.
David. My cousin. The one who died out in Texas and for whom we held a memorial. He is alive and well, staring at me with kindness in his eyes.
“How?” I finally feel strong enough to ask.
David watches me carefully, like he’s wondering what he should share with me. I push myself away from him until I feel a wall at my back. I sit up and lean against it. When I cross my arms over my chest, I am so grateful for the sweatshirt I have on. Puck’s sweatshirt.
God, he is going to be so worried. Why was I this stupid and thought I could get away with a quick trip out on my own?
“Are you surprised?” David grins at me, then freaks me the hell out when he slaps himself on the side of his head. He looks disoriented for a second, then he’s back to himself. Or to whatever this version of him is.
“I am,” I whisper, scared out of my mind.
“I couldn’t wait to tell you,” he laughs. “You’ve always been my favorite, Em.”
“T-thank you,” I stutter, tears forming in my eyes. “Why am I here, David?”
“We wanted to talk to you. I told them you were smart.” He sounds so proud of himself and of me when he says it, I would smile if I wasn’t scared out of my mind.
“She finally awake?” a gruff voice calls from somewhere in the back.
“She is, Prez,” David jumps up to answer to this new person coming in.
“About fuckin’ time,” the man replies.
