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I’d swallowed my fear as the doors closed on the Taylor family and the little girl who watched me so fiercely.
I’d done my best to stay alert for the past few hours, but my concentration was failing now I’d been left alone. The doctors said I had a probable concussion, contusions and bruises on almost every inch of my body, and whispered it was a miracle I’d survived.
They seemed to know about the shipwreck.
They seemed to know how I’d ended up here.
Yet no one asked anything more, focusing on fixing me rather than learning who I was.
Their lack of interest begged me to relax, but each time someone entered the room, I prepared to leap to my feet and run. I had visions of uniformed officers appearing, slapping me in cuffs, and marching me out of the hospital. Nightmares of dragging me past the girl who’d saved my life, all while knowing that the moment they sent me back home, I was a dead man anyway.
But no one came.
No one looked at me as if I didn’t deserve to be there.
No one refused me care.
I sighed, dropping my hand and staring at the ceiling.
Images of my parents crowded in my head.
My mother’s desperation telling us she loved us.
My sister’s scream—
I clenched my jaw and forced myself to think about another girl.
Would I ever see her again or had they gone? They’d done their duty and delivered me to doctors. They had no reason to return.
I hated that beneath my never-ending grief for my family, I had enough sadness to spare at the thought of never seeing them again.
My stomach snarled, interrupting my tired thoughts.
My thirst had been steadily growing more and more excruciating the longer I’d been tended to. Despite the doctor’s wonderful care on patching up my obvious injuries, no one had stopped to think how dry and desiccated I was after drinking an entire ocean of salt.
My eyes fell on the basin in the far corner of the ward where I’d been placed. Other beds were occupied, kept private with curtains with flowers and stars printed on them. I was closest to the wall. Nearest the window.
At least there was a way out.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my battered body to move.
First, I would drink. Then I would see about stealing some clothes to replace the open-backed gown I’d been dressed in.
And then...I was leaving.
Grabbing hold of the safety rung around the bed, I gingerly lowered my legs to the floor. I didn’t leap down. I took my time, easing myself to standing while the world threatened to turn black on me again and my throat closed around fresh nausea.
Hissing between my teeth, I managed to stand. Barely.
The sink and its tap seemed a million miles away.
Fuck.
My chin tipped down as exhaustion clotted my mind.
My mouth was so dry. My head so heavy.
But I couldn’t fucking move because if I didn’t have something to hold on to, I’d fall.
