Page 32 of Kylie

“Doesn’t surprise me. The bastard.”

They were silent for a moment, and I was aware of a tapping sound. Like fingers on a table. I had no idea what they were doing.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” the man in the room asked.

Before the man on the speaker answered, the woman said, “Where do you want to take her?”

“I don’t know yet,” Speaker Man answered, and this time his voice grew louder with what sounded like anger. “I can’t just relocate her until I know what to expect. She’s been in a coma for almost a year.”

A coma? Me? For a year? What the hell?

“Can she breathe on her own?” Speaker Man asked.

Of course I can breathe on my own, you idiot. If I couldn’t, I would be dead.

“She hasn’t yet, so I don’t know. Once we remove the breathing tube, we’ll know more.”

Breathing tube.

I reached toward my face to see what they were talking about, but nothing happened. My brain passed the instruction down to my arm, but it didn’t seem to be reading the signal.

“Find someone,” Speaker Man said, his voice muffled as though the speaker was turned away. “I don’t give a fuck who. Just get a doctor in there. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

What he’s dealing with? Who are you?

“We’ll get it done, boss,” the man in the room said.

“In the meantime?” the woman prompted. “Do you want me to keep her sedated?”

“Yes,” Speaker Man answered. “The last thing I need is for her to tear that thing out of her throat.”

Again, I tried to reach for my neck, but my arm didn’t move.

“I’ll keep you updated,” the woman said, her voice shifting in the room.

No! Wait! Where am I?

No one answered as the darkness took me once again.

Chapter Twelve

Monday, January 3, 2022

Kylie

I was aware of someone touching me. A hand on my arm. It was gently nudging me. The gesture felt familiar, but I couldn’t place where I would’ve felt it from. Back when my dad would wake me up for school? Or when my sister would attempt to get my attention? Something was familiar.

“She’s coming to,” someone said.

Man? Woman? I couldn’t tell. Their tone was lackluster at best, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

“Check her pulse.”

“I’m trying,” the first person said, the hand on my arm once more.

I slid my arm closer to my body, getting away from the touch.

“That’s a good sign,” a man said. “Now relax while we take this breathing tube out.”