Out of habit, I reached up to push my hair out of my face, and was surprised to encounter a gauze bandage wrapped tightly around my head. Almost more alarming was the unfamiliar stubble on the top of my head, causing me to snatch my hand back in alarm. I’d felt this sensation before… but every time, I had forgotten and had the same reaction. This time, though, I looked around the room for some sort of mirror or reflective surface, but got distracted when the doctor pushed through the door carrying a pitcher.
“Dr. Tierney?” I croaked, and then coughed, suddenly realizing how dry my mouth was.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” Dr. Tierney smiled warmly and moved over to the other side of the bed, pouring some water into a cup. I eagerly grabbed it from her hands, slipping the straw between my lips and sucking down the cool liquid. It had a slightly metallic taste to it, but it seemed like it was the most delicious thing I had drunk in days. Who knew—maybe it was.
As I drank, Dr. Tierney tilted my head up with her fingers and shone a penlight in my eye. I stared blankly, but apprehension churned through me as she did so, my mind vaguely recalling a time when this would’ve caused instant pain. Confused by the obscure memory, I stopped. “Something… something happened,” I said.
Dr. Tierney withdrew the pen and gave me a thoughtful look. “What do you mean?”
I frowned and shook my head, unsure how to answer her question; and then I realized there were more pressing ones I needed answers to. “How are you here? Why are you here? Where’s Viggo? Where’s Tim? Does Desmond know? Oh my God, is she here? Are we all prisoners again?”
Questions were now spilling out of me so fast I could barely get them all out with my dry throat, and they would’ve continued had Dr. Tierney not raised her hand in a universal sign for slow down. I felt a twinge of impatience, but blinked, waiting.
“Oh my,” she said with a little smile, sitting down on the bed. I took being silenced as an opportunity to drink a little more. “Looks like switching to the weaker pain medication really did the trick… Where do I start? Desmond is not here, and you are safe. Viggo is here, but I’m not sure where exactly—he comes and goes as he pleases. No one is a prisoner, but as your doctor, I will tie you to the bed if you overexert yourself, so I reserve the right to amend that answer whenever I please.”
I put the water cup down. “No Desmond… Then how did you… come to be here?”
“Viggo, Amber, and Owen went to our—the Liberators’—home base,” she explained. “They had the others… watch your video.”
“Oh.” I had forgotten about the video. I couldn’t decide how I felt about them showing it to the Liberators, until I remembered that was exactly why I had made it. Still, the fact everyone had borne witness to me getting the stuffing beaten out of me by Tabitha? Talk about embarrassing. I put it aside and focused on the more important issue. Biting my lip, I looked up at her. “And my brother?”
She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry—I’m just your doctor. Viggo would have a better idea of… Hey, you sit back down right now!”
I ignored her, trying to get my limbs to obey me. Even though I was wide awake and mostly clearheaded, my arms and legs were stiff, so much so that moving had become quite troublesome. I grated my teeth together as I slid my legs out from under the covers and over the side of the mattress.
Then Dr. Tierney was there in front of me, her hands on her hips. At that moment, I despised the ease with which she moved, almost as much as it irritated me that she was in my way. I stared up at her, but she stood firm.
“Lie back down, Violet,” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Please,” I said. “I have to know about my brother.”
“Violet, I cut open your skull two days ago. You were bleeding internally, and I had to drill not one, but two holes in your head. Not to mention your fractured skull, which is only a small injury and will heal itself… But only if you take care of it. The good news is that you’re awake, and you seem lucid. But I am not letting you out of this bed until I can at least check you out.”
I frowned. “If I let you check me out, will you please let me go find Viggo?”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I went and got him?” she asked, the hard edges of her face softening slightly.
“No!” I snapped suddenly, with vehemence that surprised me—a surge of fear hitting me hard. I looked up, noted the clinical look on Dr. Tierney’s face, and immediately forced my fear aside. “No,” I repeated, modulating my voice to be softer and more reasonable, but with no room for argument.