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But once the room has emptied and Rhea turns to me, I realize she caught me. Her eyes are rimmed in red, and I can tell she’s been crying. She looks exhausted, worn out. It feels like years have passed since we walked into this church. “They kicked everybody out so that we can say our goodbyes,” she says, nodding at the coffin perched on the altar. “I think I can go up alone this time.”
She doesn’t sound terribly confident in the words that she speaks, but she’s offering me an escape, and I’m not too proud to take it. “Are you sure?” I ask, searching her face for any indication that she’s just trying to put on a brave front, that she needs me to accompany her.
“Yes,” she nods. “I want a minute alone, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course.” I answer her quickly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. A small smile forms on her lips. “I’ve already had my chance to say goodbye, so take all the time you need. I’m going to step out for a minute.”
“Thank you, Rem.” Rhea says, pulling me into a hug. “For everything.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but I’m not in the position to question it. I just hug her back and try not to imagine how close I was to standing here with her in the coffin instead. We may not have been terribly close by other people’s standards, but my sister is the closest person to me. She’s been the one constant my whole life, and even when we hate each other, our love is stronger. I abandoned her and Monica to keep them safe, but even if it was for her own safety, I could never cut my sister off completely.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and turn away before she can see the single tear I have to blink away. Understanding that I’m about to leave her alone, she catches my hand, holding onto it for a moment longer before letting go to have her final moments with the man she called her father.
I leave her standing in the center of the church, facing off with an expensive coffin.
Chapter ten
Claire
“It’s very clearly infected.” The doctor mumbles. Even through her thick accent, the irritation is obvious. “I don’t know what this is all about, but she should have been taken to the hospital and put on antibiotics.”
“I know.” Elaine nods her agreement. “But we can’t have people asking questions, Carmen. You know that.”
“Then you should have called me instead of trying to handle it yourself.” The doctor—Carmen— snaps.
I can hear them, though it sounds like I’m listening to their conversation from the bottom of the ocean, and I can see the outline of them standing together by the door, but everything is too fuzzy to get a good sense of what’s going on. “Please,” Elaine says, desperation streaking her voice. “Help her.”
“What do you think I’m here for, Elaine? Of course, I’m going to help her. But the antibiotics may not be enough. You really shouldn’t have waited.”
“I don’t care what you have to do.” Elaine assures her. “Save that girl’s life or we are going to have some really big problems. I promise you that.”
A sigh escapes one of them, and a moment later I see the shape of the doctor as she comes closer to me. “I’m going to start an IV and some antibiotics to help your body heal, okay?” She offers me a smile that I think is meant to be calming, but it doesn’t matter. I’m calm. I’m barely lucid. She could tell me she’s going to chop off my hand and I’d close my eyes and wait for it to be over if I thought it would make this torture stop. “I’m also going to take some blood samples. I’ll be quick, promise.”
I barely feel the needle piercing my flesh. It’s the least offensive pain I’ve experienced in the last week, so I close my eyes and drift on the edge of sleep until the doctor’s words call me back from the fringe.
“I’m going to stay a little while, Miss Monroe, if that’s alright with you.”
I don’t honestly care what happens—to me, to the doctor. Nothing matters anymore.
I’m back on the wings of sleep, flying away into another world, before I can even open my mouth to answer her.
**
When I wake next, the doctor is standing near the window with her back to me, which is convenient because I don’t have to worry about vomiting on her when I roll over and throw up on the floor. I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten anything with substance, and the bile on the floor makes that clear.
As I sit up, I feel the pull of the needle in my skin, and without thinking about why it’s there, make to rip it out. A hand on mine stops me; I look up to see the woman I recognize as a doctor. But something about her looks different now. I blink as I try to figure out what it is, and then realization hits. It isn’t the doctor that’s different—it’s the room.
Where the hell am I?
Panic starts to flare in my chest, but it doesn’t make it far, because the woman grabs my cheeks between her hands and angles my face so that I can get a good look at her. “You’re okay, Claire.”
Something about the way she speaks makes me want to believe her, but she’s a complete stranger. On top of that, I’m no longer in my room, so she hasn’t given me a whole lot of reasons to trust her.
Seeming to sense my hesitation, the doctor answers the questions I didn’t ask out loud. “You’re in the hospital.” She says. “You’re completely safe here. Your friends are right outside that door. Just sit back, okay?”
My eyes flicker around the room before landing on the door. The room doesn’t look like any hospital I’ve ever seen—it’s too cheery. It looks more like a hotel, with a little kitchen set up in one corner and a comfortable-looking sofa pushed against the opposite wall. The giveaway to her truth is that everything is eerily sterile.
I ease back against the bed and meet the woman’s gaze to demand more answers. But my voice comes out strangled, and I realized my throat is raw, so I gratefully accept the water she hands me and take a few long sips through the straw.
