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Walsh nodded and before I knew it had disappeared out the door of my sterile hospital room, leaving me to stare at thepopcorn ceiling with nothing left but faith that God was always near.
Please, God, bring her home to me.
After Walsh left,Mama returned. The doctor came soon thereafter to examine me and then told the nurse to up my pain medication. “He needs to rest,” the doctor said to my mother. “It’ll help him recover more quickly.”
Mama nodded, thanking him for his help. “Can I stay with him?”
But I was already fading and didn’t hear his answer. Seconds later, I was asleep.
I woke to light streaming in from the window in my room. Another sunny day, I thought. A day made for fishing or hiking or grilling steaks outside. Would Elliot get to experience any of life’s pleasures ever again?
A middle-aged nurse arrived with a tray of food. I squinted—the light through the window hurt my eyes—to read her name tag. Martha.
Martha set the tray down on the same table with Walsh’s card. “Good, you’re up. I was going to wake you if you weren’t. You need to eat. I’ve brought breakfast.”
She lifted a silver top off the plate. “Nothing fancy, but it’ll help you get out of here if you build up your strength.”
I peeked at what they called breakfast. A bowl of oatmeal the consistency of jelly, orange juice, and a clump of what I assumed were scrambled eggs. No coffee, I noted. The scent of slightly sulfuric eggs made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Do you know if my family’s here?” I asked, turning away from the plate.
“Your mother and father left after you fell asleep,” Martha said. “Upon my insistence. That mother of yours is quite stubborn, isn’t she?”
“You could say that.” Even the thought of my mother’s Mama Bear protectiveness couldn’t make me smile.
Martha put her hands on either side of her ample hips. “Eat or I’ll stand here looking at you all day.”
“Yes ma’am.” I took a tentative spoonful of oatmeal. Gooey and only slightly warmer than room temperature and without any taste other than salt, I swallowed it anyway. I needed to get out of here. Elliot needed me. If that meant I had to eat this nasty porridge, then so be it. “How long until I can be discharged?”
“Possibly tomorrow but no promises. The doctor wants to make sure there are no complications. And that you’re eating and able to have a bowel movement.”
I cringed. Nothing was private in the hospital. Even bathroom schedules. However, the thought of being discharged sooner than later gave me some hope. Although that was still hours away. Hours that could take Elliot farther and farther from me.
I scooped up another spoonful of oatmeal and swallowed. Getting out of here was first priority.
17
ELLIOT
After we had our fried chicken dinner, Russo forced Heather and me to sit on the couch together, then tied our hands and feet with rope.
“Look at my little sisters. This is exactly how I pictured it.” He grinned and tugged on his shirt collar, reminding me of a strutting rooster. “I’m going to make popcorn. Do you two want a soda? It’s a special occasion, so it’s all right if you each have one. But don’t expect every night to be like this one.”
God help me.
While he was busy in the kitchen making popcorn, I had a chance to talk to Heather alone. I waited until the noise of the popcorn maker drowned out my voice.
“Are you hanging in there?” I asked quietly.
“I’m scared.” Big eyes filled with tears. “My mother’s probably out of her mind.”
“We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to figure out a plan.”
“We could drug him,” Heather said. “I saw the sedative he used on us in the bathroom.”
“You did? He drugged you too, then?”
She told me she’d been walking out of work to her car when Russo came out from behind a van with a gun. “He put it in the small of my back and forced me into the van, then stuck me with a needle. Next thing I knew, I woke up here. That was two nights ago. What about you?”
