Moaning, he lifted his arms and rubbed his face. A slight pressure pulled his arm and Kenny opened his eyes. Blinking rapidly, Kenny looked around the stark white hospital room in shock. What the hell? What the fuck happened to me?
Panting wildly, Kenny started feeling dizzy as he looked around for help.
He wracked his mind, trying to figure out what happened to him. Slowly sitting up, Kenny covered his head with his hands, searching for the memory of why he would be inside a hospital room. It was my birthday, right? I was getting ready to go out and celebrate. Did that happen? Did I go to the Silver Bullet like I’d planned? Questions rolled through his mind, but Kenny didn’t have the answers.
The door opened and a man stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. Wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Kenny knew right away that he wasn’t an employee at the hospital. The man was good looking, with short jet-black hair, steel-blue eyes, and a big welcoming smile.
“Hi, Kenny.” He stared intently at him and Kenny tried to figure out if he knew the man, but there was no recognition. “My name is Damon Sabbath, we met last night.” He smiled, compassion filling his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Kenny shook his head. “I…uh…can you tell me why I’m here?”
Damon nodded. He stayed by the door, looking as if he’d rather run than explain to Kenny what had happened.
“Last night you came to the Silver Bullet. And at some point, your drink was spiked. Michael Moriarty—” The man paused for a second, looking for a reaction, but again Kenny didn’t know who the man was. “He works security at the Silver Bullet. He brought you here to the hospital.” Kenny’s eyebrows rose as the man’s words sank in. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times. “But, don’t worry, you’re okay.”
“I’m okay?” Kenny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was he okay? He couldn’t remember a damn thing.
The hospital door opened once more, hitting Damon in the side. A blond wearing a white lab coat apologized to the man before walking toward the bed. He lifted a clipboard from the foot of the bed and scanned the information, which Kenny assumed was his medical record.
“Good morning, Mr. Reeves.” He set the clipboard back on the foot of the bed. “My name is Doctor Stephen Pollis. How are you feeling?” The doctor lifted his stethoscope to his ears before placing the circular disk against Kenny’s chest.
“You tell me. Am I okay?”
“Last night you were drugged. The poison has worked its way out of your system. Unfortunately, one of the side effects is memory loss.”
“Did someone…was I…” Kenny couldn’t even finish the sentence.
The thought that someone had actually violated him made Kenny sick to his stomach. Wrapping both arms around his middle, he tried to cover himself. Exposed and vulnerable, Kenny wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth. He was suddenly very grateful that he didn’t remember last night. It was incredibly disorienting to wake up in a foreign place with no memory of how you ended up there. The only thing Kenny wanted to do was to go home. He needed the comforting surroundings, only then would he start to feel like himself.
“You weren’t raped,” Stephen told him, and Kenny merely nodded. “Michael Moriarty, he’s a shifter at the Silver Bullet, found you and brought you here to the hospital.”
“I need to thank him,” Kenny said to himself as a reminder.
He wasn’t sure where Michael had found him, but Kenny was incredibly grateful. He sent a silent prayer up for the shifter. The man was his guardian angel, saving him from being taken in a gruesome manner.
“I know this must be incredibly difficult for you, but I want you to know that you aren’t alone,” he said, and Kenny wanted to scoff at those words. The man had no clue what he was feeling or what he’d been through. Hell, he didn’t even know what happened.
“When can I go home?” Kenny asked. He wanted to take a shower and get into his own bed.
“I can get the paperwork together right now,” Stephen told him with a kind smile and compassionate eyes. “Would it be all right if Damon Sabbath drove you home? I’m really not sure where your car is and I think it would be safer if someone drive you.”
“Have you ever ridden in a nineteen sixty-five GTO?” the man asked from the door.
“I don’t know him.” Kenny looked at the doctor before glancing over at Damon. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re not offended, I just don’t remember you, and I don’t feel comfortable having a virtual stranger driving me home.”