4. Dahlia
Chapter four
Dahlia
M y heartbeat sounded funny in my ears, wait, was I normally able to hear my heart beating?
Why was it so loud? And why did it sound like a car backing up?
My head felt funny; not funny like the drugs in my food, funny like…
high? Was I on painkillers? I blinked my eyes open, squinting up at an unfamiliar fluorescent light, and the beeping increased in speed as I began to panic.
Where the fuck was I?
I have had enough of waking up in strange places for one lifetime, and it was really starting to piss me off.
I looked down at my hands, one of which had a tube sticking out of it, and the little gadget on my finger that monitored my heart.
I forced myself to breathe deeply, realizing that, yet again, I had been changed in my sleep, only this time it was a flimsy hospital gown.
Am I in the hospital?
The curtains across the side of the room suggested that yes, I was, as did the array of machines beeping behind me.
But how had I gotten here? The events of…
yesterday? were a haze, and my thoughts were moving too sluggishly to dredge up the memories.
Am I free? Am I safe now? I glanced around the room, looking for dangers, and my heart stuttered when I noticed a shape in the chair nearby.
It looked like a man, but he wasn’t one that I recognized.
He seemed to be asleep right now, his tall frame barely fitting in the chair he was camped out in, his messy hair flopping down over his eyes, obscuring my view of his face.
Every instinct in my brain was telling me to run, right now while I had the chance.
I didn’t know why I was here, but I had to get out, find a phone, and call Amanda.
She’d know what to do. Slipping my legs out of the sheets, I edged off the bed until my feet touched the floor.
I grabbed the pole holding my IV bag and used it for support, and I pulled off the sensor on my finger, tossing it on the bed.
Immediately the machine began blaring that my heart had stopped beating, and I flinched as it startled the man in the chair, his eyes opening with a look of pure panic.
I took my chances and rushed for the door, wincing as the muscles in my back refused to obey my commands.
He beat me to it, holding his hands up either to catch me or stop me.
I looked around for a weapon, but unless he was deathly allergic to jello cups I was shit out of luck.
“You should sit down before you pull your stitches out,” he told me, and boy was it weirdly amazing to hear another person’s voice again.
He reached for his pocket, and I stepped back defensively, but he only pulled out a badge, holding it out for me to see.
“I’m Dr. Asher Cross, I’m with the FBI. You’re safe. ”
The words floated through my brain, taking a few moments to really sink in.
I was safe? I took a deep, shuddering breath in, reigning in the panic that had seeped into my limbs.
I took another look at the person in front of me, claiming to be with the FBI.
He didn’t look like an FBI agent, he looked more like a T.A.
after finals week. His black hair was rumpled and messy, and he had dark circles under his bright blue eyes like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
He was tall, but trim under his wrinkled dress shirt, and I wondered if he’d ever been in a physical fight in his life.
There was ink on his chin, like someone had drawn on him with a pen.
There was no way he was the person who had taken me.
I knew in my bones—that person would never have a wrinkled article of clothing anywhere near them.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat instinctively, and I pressed my lips together.
Mr. FBI was watching me closely, studying me like I was a specimen in a lab.
“We removed the collar,” he told me gently, and my fingers flew to my neck.
The pressure I’d felt was just a bandage, that sadistic piece of metal was finally gone. I let out a shaky breath.
“My name is Dahlia Porter,” I managed to get out, barely above a whisper.
I tensed, waiting for the pain, but none came.
A smile broke out across his face, making his eyes light up.
It must’ve been contagious, because I felt the corners of my mouth begin to draw up as well, my muscles unused to the feeling of smiling.
The room started to tilt, and I felt my legs shake as they began to give out.
In a heartbeat, his hands were under my elbows, catching me before I collapsed into a heap on the floor.
“You really should lay back down,” he told me, his brow furrowed.
I nodded and let him guide me back into the little hospital bed, my head feeling light from just that minimal amount of exertion.
He was sturdier than I’d been expecting, so there must’ve been some decent muscles hidden underneath his dress shirt.
“Where am I?” I asked, watching as he grabbed his chair and pulled it closer to the bed before sitting down and picking up his notepad and his pen. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up even further as he pulled out his phone.
“We’re in Columbus right now,” he replied, frowning as he typed something in his phone.
Columbus, Ohio?! He brought me all the way to Ohio?!
“When can I go home?” I rasped, coughing as my throat rebelled against its newfound freedom.
He was up and out of his seat so quickly it made me jump, but he was only grabbing me a cup of water off the table next to me.
I took it from him carefully, drinking a few sips before I set the cup back down.
“As soon as you’re stable enough to travel, we’ll take you back to Virginia,” he explained, sitting back down.
“We have to arrange for a protective detail, and you may need to stay near Quantico for a while, at least for the ongoing investigation.” I frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying.
“Why do I need protection? What’s left to investigate?” I asked, and he put his pen between his teeth as he shifted nervously in his chair. If this was him trying to think up a lie, he was terrible at it.
“Well, we need to keep you safe until we catch him…” I saw his mouth continue to move, but a ringing in my ears drowned out the words.
They hadn’t caught him. He was still out there, lurking, hunting.
I rubbed at my neck, but the collar was crushing my windpipe as I tried to suck air into my lungs.
He was standing up again, and I tried to focus on what he was asking me, his eyes full of concern.
I slapped my hand against my chest, trying to restart my lungs, but the fear had coiled around them tightly and they wouldn’t move.
The door opened and I froze, staring at the stranger who’d walked in.
My eyes went to the gun on his hip and my mouth opened in a silent scream.
The Dr. FBI guy, Cross? He put his hands on my arms, he was saying something that I couldn’t hear, and I grabbed him like a lifeline.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I clung to him, squeezing my eyes shut tight so I wouldn’t wake up back in that fucking room.
I couldn’t go back there, I wouldn’t survive.
There was movement beside us, and a woman in scrubs was grabbing at my IV. I felt a nauseating dizziness as the sedative hit, and I began to sob, I didn’t want to fall asleep again.
Cross was rubbing my arms, holding me as my vision blurred and the world got so fuzzy that I couldn’t help but sink back down into the darkness.