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been in and out of consciousness for three days. You don’t
have a concussion, but you do have bad whiplash. You’re
bruised all over. The windows all broke, and you were cut up
pretty badly. The worst
of it was your arm. They had to stitch
you up and it’s not pretty.”
Cassia whimpered again and tried to shift to study the
appendage in question, but when she opened her eyes again
and looked down, all she could see was a sea of white.
“The biggest cut on your arm took over thirty stitches to
close up. You had two blood transfusions.”
For some reason that was the worst of it—the thought that
she had the blood of strangers running through her veins. She
tried to unglue her lids again and whined when all the white
stung at her retinas like acid. She blinked into the brightness of
the room. It was so bright that there must be a window. That
thought registered with her even though she couldn’t
remember a single detail of the accident she’d been in.
At least it made sense why her entire body hurt like she’d
been run over. Had she been run over?
Something tugged at her pain-soaked brain and when she
swallowed, she found she could. Her lips were dry and
chapped, so painfully dry that when she opened her mouth, she
could feel the tiny splits at the seams.
“Summer?” she croaked.
“The others you were with are fine. They were banged up,
bruises and cuts, but they’re going to be okay.”
Cassia let out a hiss of relief that made her chest hurt.
“You were sitting on the side that got hit, so you took the
worst of it. The metal punched in, and the car rolled over.”
