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Dizziness came for me, twisting me, spinning me.
I drowned beneath confusion, pain, and worry.
I couldn’t catch a proper breath. Everything felt ruined and broken.
My heart raced too fast and my rage prowled too hotly.
I felt strange and shaky, and it took all my remaining strength to rein in my fury and do what the nurse commanded.
Raising my head, choking on agony, I grunted, “Please...tell me. Tell me what happened. W-Why do I feel as if I’ve been run over?”
He chuckled before schooling his face into a more appropriate response. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh at that. I know you’re not making a joke, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, you were technically run over.”
The room faded to black before returning. I gritted my teeth to stop myself retching. “I don’t...that’s not possible.”
Taking my confusion as approval to speak, he said, “According to first response, you were struck by a Mazda Axela. You arrived about two hours ago, presenting with open wounds and contusions. You were immediately tended to.”
I struggled to focus on him. “Contusions?”
“You have a head injury that didn’t require stitches. A shoulder injury that did. X-rays show three cracked ribs and a possible hairline fracture on your left hip. It’s hard to tell with the amount of swelling at present, so I’m sure the doctor will discuss that on his next visit.”
My mind raced.
My heart hammered.
Fuck.
“Like I said, you might feel out of sorts from the head injury. You might be dizzy and nauseous.” Tapping something into a handheld device, he murmured, “I’ve just added on your file that you’re looking for your wife, alright? It’s great that you’re awake and coherent but before we can treat you any further, we need your name, date of birth, allergies, and Medicare number.” His eyebrows rose. “I’ll fill in the forms for you if you help me out with the answers.”
Snow immediately filled my veins.
I froze.
Name?
Date of birth?
My gaze shot to the door, slipping past a few other patients resting in their matching beds. My head pounded. All I wanted to do was sleep. But...I didn’t have that luxury. I didn’t have the ability to sink into my pain and let time heal me.
I have to go.
Now.
They’d patched me up. I was no longer on death’s door. The sooner I could run, the sooner I could get away from that door. A door I had no intention of knocking on.
“I’m fine. I-I don’t need any more treatment.” Yanking at the IV in my arm, I muttered, “I want to go.”
“Go?” The nurse raised his eyebrows. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re staying at least the night. You’re on concussion watch and—”
“I don’t have a concussion.” Memories of that stupid test the nurse made me do when I was sixteen came to mind. “Give me that test you guys have. I’ll prove it to you.” I could remember it even now about a dumb dog, the mouse, and twenty-nine dandelions.
“Doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. The doctor will want to assess your symptoms. If you do have a hairline hip fracture then treatment is the same as your cracked ribs. You’ll need to rest, ice, and take anti-inflammatories as and when you require, but—”
“I’m fine.” I shifted higher in the starched sheets. “I need to find Nerida.”
“Ah, yes. Nerida Taylor. Your wife. Like I said, I’ve put a note on your file, so if she’s in the hospital, someone will alert us. For now, though...” The nurse pulled out a pen from the sleeve of his e-tablet and hovered it over the screen. “How about we answer those questions, hey? What’s your name?”
Ah fuck.
Common sense came slamming back.
Self-preservation had kept my secrets intact, but I’d made a colossal mistake.
A life-changing, marriage-ending mistake.
Kafami sikeyim!
What the hell was I thinking?
How could I be so stupid?!
I’d given them Neri’s name. Her full name.
Groaning, I raked both hands through my hair, ignoring the IV needle, bandages, and road rash. My headache worsened, threatening to drag me down into fog and fuzz.
If something happened to me, I’d implicated her.
Fucking hell!
Get it together!
Think.
You’ve already fucked up.
Now what?
“Sir...are you okay?” the nurse asked, touching my shoulder gently. “If you’re in pain, just let me know your Medicare number and any allergies you may have, and I can administer some stronger pain relief.”
My heart fisted as I dropped my hands and sat frozen on the bed. Every part of me bellowed, scrambling all my ability to think.
I’d been too slow.
Far, far too stupid.
Perhaps I was concussed because there was no excuse for how badly I’d slipped.
Had Neri been as idiotic as me and mentioned my name?
If she did...how long did I have before law enforcement came charging through the door?
My aching eyes shot to the double swing doors at the end of the ward. Claustrophobia clawed at me to run.
“I need to see Nerida. Right now.”
