The Skin Thief

Chapter 85

I wake up, my whole body aching deeply. Every movement, every twitch, sends bolts of pain shooting through me. For a few seconds, I forget where I am or what happened. Then, it all comes back in a rush and my heart starts to race.

Slowly and carefully, I sit up. My eyes feel heavy and sore as I blink. Thankfully, it isn't too bright in here. Long, dark grey curtains hang over windows that rise from floor to ceiling. Daylight seeps in through the gaps, illuminating the room in a gentle glow.

I push aside the covers, pausing for a moment to enjoy the feel of the black silky blankets. Then, I look around at the rest of the bed. It is huge, making me feel tiny in it. I shift to the edge and step down onto ashy-coloured wooden floors.

At the end of the bed, a large grey rug rests on the floor. The walls are dark grey, almost black. Yet, despite the dark colours, the room feels strangely warm. Perhaps it's the deep green plants in their sleek grey pots, or maybe it's the pristine grey furniture lined with warm, bronze-coloured wood, adding streaks of colour. Either way, the room is huge, modern, and very fancy.

I look down, realising I'm wearing a large, loose black T-shirt. It comes halfway down my thighs and hangs over my bruised body baggily. I am also wearing fresh underwear. Well, not a bra. Someone must have changed me, and I know it wouldn't have been Marcus. It must have been that doctor.

Sighing, I limp over to the window and draw back the curtain. As I look out of the window, the breath leaves my body.

The view is incredible. I can see out across the whole city. Miles upon miles of buildings and skyscrapers fill the skyline. Bright green fields and parks are shaped in perfect rectangles, breaking up the buildings. In the sunlight, the deep blue river that curls through the city almost seems to sparkle.

What a view to have from one's bedroom. If I had a view like this, I would never leave. I figured Marcus' job must pay well, but this is beyond anything I could ever have imagined. With a sigh, I turn away from the window, knowing I need to find out what's going on and figure out the next steps of my plan.

I limp over to the door, then pause as I catch my reflection in the large circle mirror that hangs above a table. For a few moments, I can't believe that it is me.

My face, especially the side of it, is still swollen. Bruises, beginning to turn purple, cover my skin. I reach up, pressing my finger over the white tape that covers the stitches of the large cut on my temple.

That's going to scar.

Sighing, I look away. As I'm about to open the door, I hear Marcus' voice. Carefully, I open it, just an inch so I can hear what he's saying.

"The case is closed. Rule it an accident then hide the case files behind untouchable layers of confidentiality. Burry it."

He pauses, and I can't hear what the other person, who I assume he is on the phone with, is saying.

Marcus sighs in frustration. "I don't care if Gareth fucking Salt wants answers. He can't have them. Clarkie is dead. It was a terrible accident. That's all he gets to know. Tell him that if he wants to dig into this, then Clarkie's criminal record will suddenly be leaked, and the president will see the type of man Gareth likes to befriend. That will shut him up."

There is a moment of silence as someone else speaks.

"He did a number on her. I wish I'd got there sooner. I should have dealt with Gareth and Clarkie sooner. We were too careful. We were too soft, and they took advantage of that."

I gulp, feeling a twinge of guilt for manipulating Marcus into a situation like this. Still, it was either this or let Clarkie carry on being a monster.