16. #3
I nodded faintly, even though the word okay didn't feel particularly accurate.
Something else pulled my attention a second later.
My left eye.
It felt wrong.
Heavy.
I lifted a hand toward my face, but the second my fingers brushed my cheek a sharp ache spread across the side of my head.
Vivian stood immediately.
"Easy."
"What happened to my eye?" I asked.
My voice still sounded rough, like it hadn't quite decided how to work yet.
She hesitated for a moment, then reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a small hand mirror.
When she handed it to me, I already knew I wasn't going to like what I saw.
The swelling hit me first.
My left eye was nearly swollen shut, a deep purple bruise spreading across my cheekbone and curling toward my temple.
The sight of it made something sink quietly in my chest.
I'd looked like this before.
More than once.
I lowered the mirror slowly.
"That one's going to look worse tomorrow," Vivian said calmly. "But nothing's broken."
I nodded again, though the movement made my head throb.
Then another pain caught my attention.
Lower this time.
A deep ache spread through my stomach the second I shifted slightly against the pillow.
I instinctively hunched forward, my hand pressing lightly against my side as the pain sharpened.
Vivian noticed immediately.
"I'll grab the nurse," she said.
She stepped toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at me.
Her expression was perfectly controlled, the same calm professionalism she always carried with her. But for a split second something flickered in her eyes — something that looked almost like anger.
Then it disappeared.
The door closed behind her.
The room went quiet again.
I leaned my head back against the pillow, breathing slowly through the ache in my ribs while the monitor beside the bed continued its steady rhythm.
For a few minutes I just lay there listening to it.
The soft beeping.
The low hum of the air conditioner.
The quiet apartment around me.
And then something clicked in my mind all at once.
Grant.
My stomach dropped.
I was supposed to go to his place tonight.
I could still picture the message sitting on my screen earlier that afternoon, the little hint of excitement I'd felt when he sent it.
I hadn't shown up.
Hadn't texted.
Hadn't called.
My hand moved instinctively toward the bedside table.
Empty.
The realization hit a second later.
My phone wasn't there.
A cold feeling slid through my chest.
What if he'd called?
What if he'd texted and I hadn't answered?
The thought made my heart start racing before I could stop it, my chest tightening as the panic worked its way up my throat.
The monitor beside the bed reacted immediately, the steady rhythm shifting into a sharper, faster series of beeps that filled the room.
I tried to breathe slower.
In.
Out.
But the faster the monitor beeped, the harder it became to calm myself down.
The door opened quickly.
The nurse stepped in first, Vivian close behind her.
"What's going on?" the nurse asked, already moving toward the monitor.
I shook my head weakly, the movement making my ribs protest.
"I'm okay," I said, though my voice barely made it past my lips.
They checked the monitor, adjusted something on the IV line I hadn't even noticed earlier.
Vivian rested a hand lightly on my arm.
"Easy," she murmured. "Your body's just catching up."
The nurse injected something into the line.
"Just something to help you rest," she said.
The room felt softer almost immediately.
The edges of everything began to blur again.
Vivian's voice drifted somewhere near me, but I couldn't quite follow the words.
The last thing I remember was the monitor settling back into its slow, steady rhythm as my eyes slid closed.
When I woke up again, the room felt different.
Lighter.
My body didn't ache the same way it had before, the pain dulled into something distant and manageable. It took me a second to realize why.
Medication.
That explained the floaty feeling in my head.
The chair beside the bed was empty this time.
So was the rest of the room.
For a moment I just stared at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle around me again.
Then something on the bedside table caught my eye.
My phone.
I reached for it slowly, the movement still stiff but manageable.
The screen lit up when I picked it up.
A message from Vivian sat at the top.
The tension in my chest loosened immediately.
Five days.
The thought alone made my shoulders relax against the pillow.
Another message from her sat underneath it.
I exhaled slowly.
At least that meant no one else would be coming in and out of the apartment tonight.
No questions.
No witnesses.
I swiped the notifications away.
That's when I saw the others.
Grant.
Three missed calls.
Four messages.
My chest tightened as I opened the thread.
I swallowed hard.
He'd been waiting.
My throat felt dry when I tried to speak, the sound barely coming out.
Calling wasn't going to work.
So I typed instead.