Hidden Away

Twenty-Seven: Hospital

I'm sitting in the waiting room of the pack hospital, anxiously tapping my foot against the hardwood floor. Little things like chatter around me and the faint rolling of someone's wheelchair are ticking me off, making me grow more frustrated by the second. I don't think my heart has stopped racing since I brought her in, which was more than two hours ago.

I shouldn't be this worried. I don't even know that girl, but something about her drew me in ever since I had caught her following Rowan and I. She's someone special. Even Taryn feels it.

"Ms. Bloodmoon?" I stand immediately upon hearing my name being called. The same nurse who had taken the girl from my arms comes up to me, hugging a clipboard.

"Is she okay?" I ask, almost frantically.

"She's alright. We stitched her up and the healing process has already started." The heaviness in my chest dissipates slightly until she adds, "Though, she'll probably heal slower than normal considering she's so weak. We want to give her medication to avoid any infection, but we can't give her anything on an empty stomach or without knowing any of her information. She refuses to eat anything, and she refuses to speak," she explains. "I'm hoping you'll be able to convince her to eat something and get her to give us as much information as possible." Without giving me much time to answer, she shoves the clipboard in my direction. I take it and nod.

"You can count on me." She smiles and tells me the room she's located in. I follow her directions and soon enough, I'm in front of the door that belongs to her room.

I take a deep breath and knock, giving it a second before opening the door. There she lays, in a white hospital gown, covered in white blankets, surrounded by white walls. Everything is white.

"Hey," I whisper, walking towards the bed, but still keeping my distance. She uses her limited strength to situate herself slightly further than me, which slightly hurts, but it's understandable. She's probably scared out of her mind. "I'm not going to hurt you," I say, easing into a chair beside her bed. "I just want to talk about some things."

"I know," she whispers, barely whispers. "If you wanted me hurt, you wouldn't have saved me."

"You remember that?" I ask. I didn't think she would remember anything considering she was barely conscious and in pain.

"I didn't at first, but it's been coming back in pieces," she explains, then adds a, "thank you," that I probably would've missed if the room wasn't quiet.

"I think you should eat something," I suggest, eyeing the tray of food that was set on the table that sits on the other side of her bed. "I wouldn't want you to get sick and make yourself feel worse." I stand up, rounding the bed and picking up the tray, placing it on her legs in front of her. They tray isn't heavy, so it shouldn't hurt her.

Hesitantly, she takes the small bag of apple slices and rips it open, taking one and putting it in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

I take the time to get a good look at her. She looks like a sweet girl, but her grey eyes are dull, and her bronze skin is full of scratches and cuts. Her curly hair is still damp from the bath she had probably been given to clean her up. I imagine how beautiful she would look if she were up and running right now, without all the scratches and cuts that litter her body.

"Can I ask you some questions? The doctors need to know some things in order to know what they can give you," I explain, and she swallows what she has in her mouth before speaking.

"I can try to give you as much information as I know, but it's not much," she warns, and I nod. Anything she can give me is good information. I look down at the clipboard and start reading the questions out.