Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
As fresh air reached past the itchy confines of the cast, I ached with the urge to scratch. My forearm was damp from my shower, and traces of dirt I hadn’t managed to rinse away ran in rivulets amongst my arm hair.
With a sniff, she turned off the saw, grabbed the two ends of the cast, and cracked the rest wide open. Slipping it off my withered forearm, she eyed up the bump that hadn’t been there before. Tossing the cast into a hazardous waste bag by her feet, she reached for her supplies on the table and used a few alcohol wipes to clean up the rest of my skin.
Her fingers were soft and gentle as she probed the still-healing break. “Your bone will have started knitting together, but putting too much pressure on it will re-fracture it. So…be careful.”
I laughed under my breath. “I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about being gentle, doc.”
She pursed her lips and didn’t reply.
I hadn’t been conscious when she’d casted me. I had scant memories of her murmuring why I had to lie still and why she poked me with painful things, but…she’d done the best she could, and I was grateful.
“Thank you, Melanie,” I whispered. “For trying to fix me.”
Her gaze shot to mine. Her lips twisted as if she wanted to say something. Shaking her head, she grabbed her saw again and dropped to her knees. Neither of us spoke as she sliced away the cast around my ankle.
The sensation of sticky grime and healing came again as she cracked it off and tossed it with the other. Shards of plaster scattered on the black carpet beneath my chair. White dust covered her fingers as she reached for another alcoholic wipe and cleaned off my leg.
Bending a little, I inspected the state of my ankle. No visible bump like my forearm, but it seemed thinner. My lower leg was as fragile as the rest of me.
Fuck, I hated this.
Hated being so hungry and weak.
Hated being collared and completely helpless to save Ily and the jewels.
Fury burned through me.
Rage and fear and despair.
Yanking my foot away from her inquisitive hands, I snapped, “I’m fine. You can go now.”
The two guards looked up. One stepped forward. “If you’re done, Dr Belford, I have orders for you to check the other two.”
“I’ll tell you when I’m done,” the doctor barked. Climbing to her feet, she rummaged in her bag and turned her back on the guards.
They looked as if they’d argue but then the leader shrugged and fell back into conversation with the other blond guy, their eyes on each other, their attention not on us.
Pulling out a syringe full of something, she tapped it and yanked my arm closer. Swiping another alcoholic swab across my veins in my inner elbow, she whispered almost too low to hear. “This will give you energy and pain relief for a few days. It’ll replenish you a little and numb what it can, but the effects will wane. I’ll try to give you some more before it’s gone completely.”
Before I could ask what it was or why she was helping me, she stabbed me with the needle, dumped the contents inside me, tossed her equipment into her bag, and shot out the door.
* * * * *
“Time to go,” the guard barked, snapping his fingers as he opened the door.
Unlike down in the dungeons where we couldn’t tell how much time had passed, I’d counted the ticking clock and its minutes since Dr Belford had gone. Each one scratched at my heart, keeping me far from Ily.
Forty-seven awful minutes.
Forty-seven and now—
“Move.” The guard stepped toward me, his hand hovering over his pistol on his belt.
Standing on my newly cast-free ankle, I stepped toward him gingerly.
Dressed only in my towel, I cursed not wearing clothes. I’d looked in the drawers and wardrobe and found nothing.
They’d even taken the gross clothes I’d worn in the caves.
I hated being so bare.
Hated to think what Victor would do…
My feet slowed.
“Move it,” the guard barked.
I obeyed, gritting my teeth against discomfort.
Only…
All the aches and pains. All the bone-deep discomfort and conscious-stealing weakness…gone.
I stepped again.
Okay, so that might’ve been an exaggeration. Not gone…just better.
I still wobbled a little. Still suffered greyness on the edge of my vision and still couldn’t take a deep breath without a twinge in my ribs but…everything else was muted beneath a blanket of softness.
Standing taller, I walked a little faster.
Whatever Dr Belford had given me, it’d done exactly what she said it would.
I had the smallest amount of power. The faintest reprieve from everything that’d happened.
I deliberately slouched as I stepped past the guards and into the corridor.
I felt better, but no way would I let them know that.
“Come on.” The two guards ushered me forward with fierce looks and a quick slap to the back of my head.