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ChapterOne
Layla
* * *
My eyelids slowly peel apart, and I find myself in a bright, quiet room, propped up on a deliciously comfortable bed—although my body feels painfully stiff. It’s a hospital room, but nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. When I had the flu as a kid, my parents took me to the hospital; I recall a tiny, cramped space with patterned cotton curtains separating me from another person in a shared room and an overwhelming stench of bleach.
This room is easily big enough for four, but I have it all to myself. A large TV is mounted on the wall at a comfortable angle to watch from the bed, with several plush chairs positioned in a cozy grouping nearby. From the dark doorway I see I have a private bathroom, with bright windows to my left and a nurse’s station-slash-kitchenette to my right. In addition, there are several large, colorful vases of flowers taking up every available surface, some relatively fresh and some that are wilting. The air is fragrant with their scent.
How long have I been here?
My heart speeds up, the monitor near my head ticking more rapidly. I lift my arms to discover they are both wrapped wrist to elbow in gauze, and an IV is taped to my left hand. Dumbly, my eyes follow the tube to the stand that holds several bags of fluids, steadily dripping into the connecting port.
My chest feels tight. I try to pull in a deep breath and wince in pain—the memory of the stabbing fire in my chest comes back to me, and I pat my body lightly through the pale patterned hospital gown… I have bandages around my chest, too.
“So glad to see you awake, Lilliana,” a sweet, authoritative voice with a southern drawl draws my gaze as a hot pink-clad nurse bustles into the room. “I’m Roxanne. I know you’ve had a bit of a shock, but I promise you, everything is okay. I just need you to try to calm down for me, okay? Take a few slow breaths.” She grips my pale hand with warm, dark fingers, and rubs gently while her eyes focus on the screen above my head. My fingers are stiff, I can’t bend them.
I suddenly become aware of the erratic beeping that’s signaling my heart rate, and I try to draw another breath that isn’t quite as deep this time. Okay, that doesn’t hurt as much. I pull in another breath, instinctively wanting to do as she asks. The high-pitched beeping slows slightly, and the nurse beams at me.
“That’s right, Lilliana. Good girl, you’re doing great. Just a few more easy breaths, you’ve got it.”
“Lex. My name’s Lex… or Layla.” My voice comes out in a whispery croak. I clear my throat, trying again. “Layla.” That’s a little better, but my mouth is still a desert. “Can I get some water?” I eye the empty pitcher on the stainless steel tray beside me.
“Of course, Lil… Layla. Just keep working on that breathing and I’ll get you some water. Deal?”
I nod, and she pats my hand before grabbing the pitcher and heading out.
A few breaths later, she’s back with a full pitcher and a cup, complete with a bendy straw. “Here you go. I’m sure your throat is pretty dry.” She holds the cup for me while I sip, but pulls it away before I’m done drinking my fill. “Not too much. We need to take it easy, okay?”
I nod again, still feeling like this is all impossibly surreal. “Thank you… what’s your name again?”
“Roxanne,” she smiles brightly. “How are you feeling?”
I consider for a moment. “Sore. Itchy. Confused. What happened? How long have I been here? Where is here, anyway?”
“Well…” Roxanne’s dark eyes dart to the doorway, then back to me. “I can tell you that you’re at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in LA. You’ve been here for eight days. Do you remember anything about the night you came here?”
My brain struggles to pull up memories through the fuzzy cotton that exists in my head. “I got off the bus… I was going home… I remember pain, being on the ground?”
Roxanne nods soberly. “Yes, you were attacked, and that’s how you ended up in the hospital. I think we should wait for the doctor to get here before we go over anything else.”
“Wait, why am I here, though? Who is paying for all of this?” I wave my arm painfully at the spacious room and florist’s shop worth of arrangements.
Roxanne just pats my hand again. “Let’s just wait until the doctor gets here, okay? It should just be a few minutes, I alerted her as soon as I saw you were up.”
I don’t like her vague answers, but I instinctively trust her.Good person, my subconscious whispers. I’ve always had instincts about people. They haven’t led me astray yet.
Roxanne smiles, her deep brown eyes crinkling at the edges as she conveys genuine warmth and happiness that I’m awake. There’s a strange, responding flicker of warmth in my chest, reacting to the unexpected care of this stranger.
The last woman who’d smiled at me like that had been my mom, and it’d been years…
Not the time. I sniff hard, forcing the memory from my mind and focusing instead on my injuries—none of which I can see, so I search my body for how injured Ifeel.
My legs feel normal, although stiff from being in bed for so long. My arms are achingly sore and itchy, like the skin is healing from cuts under the wrappings.
I attempt another deeper breath, and am rewarded with the constriction of the bandages around my body and a dull stabbing feeling deep within my chest.
“Take it easy, girl. If it hurts to breathe deeply, just keep it as light as feels comfortable. You’re still healing.” Roxanne’s voice is soothing and authoritative. While merely the kindly suggestions of a nurse, I feel compelled to do as she instructs. It’s in my best interest, of course. Why wouldn’t I listen?
