Chapter 38
Ava
Bright light seared my vision, making my head pound. The only thing I knew was the thump, thump, thump creating pressure above my eyes.
Then I sat up, my heart racing. Where was I? What was this place?
My bed had rails. There was tape on my hand and a line running up to a bag.
The word arrived.
Hospital.
Sick people went to hospitals.
Was I sick?
I wore a strange blue dress, open in the front. I closed it over my body. My underwear was strange, stretchy mesh over paper. It didn’t feel right.
I was alone. There were two doors. One was closed. The other was open. Beyond it, I spotted a sink and a mirror. Bathroom.
The urge to hide was strong. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My fuzzy socks were warm and had funny nubs on the bottom that stuck to the floor.
I only walked a few steps when a tug on my hand made me stop. The line attached to me was pulled tight. It was attached to a tall pole beside the bed. I couldn’t go any farther.
I puzzled over the tube and the tape, then jerked it all off. There was a quick bite of pain, and a dot of blood welled up. I wiped it on my gown.
Voices grew louder outside the closed door. I listened, paralyzed with fear, but they kept going by. I felt exposed in the big room, so I dashed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
A movement almost made me scream, then I realized it was the mirror. A woman in a blue gown leaned in. We moved together. It was me.
My hair was brown, the long parts braided on both sides of my head. The skin near my eye was purple. When I touched it, pain shot through me. Bruise.
Something white on my wrist caught my eye. A bracelet. It had words.
Patient: Ava Giddings.
DOB: 7-7-00.
Date: 11-17-2025.
I said the name aloud. “Ava Giddings.” Ava felt right. Giddings less so. I turned to the mirror. “Ava Giddings.” The face there looked grim. Unhappy. I touched my cheeks. Ava Giddings.
More blood had welled up on the back of my hand. I reached for the handle of the faucet, but spotted something written on my skin. The sleeve of the gown fell back as I lifted my arm and turned my wrist.
Three lines of words, jagged and black.
Trust only this handwriting.
Find the book.
Remember your life.
Fear bolted through my body. Something inside me aligned. The terror. The urge to hide. It was real. What was my life? Why didn’t I know it? Who took it?
Trust only this handwriting.
I glanced around. Mirror. Walls. White shower curtain. There were no words. Where would there be handwriting? On the bracelet? Those letters didn’t match the words on my arm.
My breathing sped up so hard that I pressed my hand to my chest. I had to brave going into the big room again. Maybe the right handwriting was out there!
I listened carefully but heard nothing. I eased the door open and stepped out.
Where was the handwriting?
A whiteboard on the wall had words written on it. I approached to peer at them. At the top was “Ava Giddings.” That was me. “RN Kenisha. LVN Jennifer.” I had no idea who they were. The date written below the names matched my bracelet. 11-17-25.
But the handwriting wasn’t the same as on my arm. It was short and angled. Mine was tall and straight.
Trust only this handwriting.
I opened the cabinets and knocked the contents onto the floor. There were cups. A pitcher. A basin. But no handwriting. The bedsheets flew through the air as I jerked them from the mattress. Nothing.
I spotted a duffel bag by the wall. Something about it felt right. I lunged for it.
Inside were clothes. Jeans. A shirt. A bra. Underwear. Shoes. Pajamas. It was stuffed tightly.
I snatched one of the shoes and shoved my foot inside. It fit.
These were my clothes. My bag.
The gown hit the floor, and I stripped off the weird paper underwear. The inside was red with blood.
I paused. A hospital was for sick people.
But then I saw something else. More words on my skin.
Ava Roberts. 7-7-00.
Those were written in the same handwriting as on my arm.
But wait. I checked my bracelet again.
Patient: Ava Giddings.
The names didn’t match. Something was wrong.
I read the words on my other hip.
Mom is bad.
Panic flashed over me, hot and furious. I had to get away. Now. Mother could be anywhere.
I jerked the shirt over my head, dragged on the underwear, and pulled on the jeans. Those were wildly loose, so I stuffed the bottom of my shirt in the waist to keep them from falling down.
When my shoes were on, I lifted the bag.
Below it was a big book.
When I read the front of it, sparks flew behind my eyes.
Trust only this handwriting.
This is the book.
Remember your life.
I compared to my arm.
This was it!
I flipped open to a random page and read a few lines.
Do not trust Mother.
I have to run away.
The book was telling me to run away!
I had to go. Now.
I shoved the book into the bag and put it on my shoulder.
Where was I going?
It didn’t matter. I had to go.
I eased the door open. A few people walked by. I waited. I realized my name was on the board. I rushed over and smeared it with my fist so the letters couldn’t be read. Mother could never know I was here.
I checked the hall. There was only one woman, and she was walking away.
I squeezed out the door and hurried away to find some place safe to read the rest of my book.