Book IV of the UNC Series
Carter Blake has a bone-deep hatred for the world-and especially for the people in it. All he wants is to keep his head down, focus on school and basketball, and avoid the mess of human connection. After enduring years of...
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A dull, throbbing pain pounds behind my eyes, a pressure that feels more like the result of oversleeping rather than the lack of. I stir, feeling a hand grip mine tightly as I swallow down my rough, dry throat. My tongue feels thick in my mouth. I roll my head with a groan, slowly blinking my eyes open to find Carter staring down at me with furrowed brows and a frown tugging at his lips.
He mouths my name, that much I can discern from the movement, but I can't seem to hear it. The sounds around me are muffled and muted like I'm in a vacuum. And then, all at once, my senses return in a rush; the insistent beeping of the heart monitor, Carter's soothing but concerned voice hovering over me, and the acrid tang of disinfectant filling the air.
"Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to call in the nurse?"
I pinch my eyes closed, hoping to clear the fog that's settled over my eyes before peering up at Carter. I shake my head, my mouth dry and cottony, desperately trying to produce enough saliva to swallow, but nothing comes.
"Water," I rasp. My voice sounds rough. Carter immediately lets go of my hand, and I cramp like I've been clutching him for hours. He returns with a cup and straw, holding it to my mouth. I gulp down the water greedily before leaning back onto the bed.
"Are you sure you don't want me to call a nurse?" Carter places a hand by my side before leaning over me to study my eyes. I wiggle my toes, feeling for any pain points, but nothing hurts besides the headache pounding behind my eyes from oversleeping.
"I'm fine, I promise. Just a little groggy, and my eyes feel stiff." I clear my throat from the phlegm collected there.
Carter cracks a smile. "Good. Let me know if that changes."
I nod as I circle my hand around his arm, feeling the corded muscles and veins. I need to feel that he's here, that he's real. The past—however long it's been—days have felt like a nightmare. A small part of me hoped that when I arrived at the hospital and they had me on concussion watch, I would wake up with no recollection of what happened.
But I'm in no such luck. I remember the pain I felt when either Ricky or Spencer struck me in the head at the cemetery. I recall waking up sore and achy in my childhood basement. How Ricky and Spencer revealed they were stalking me to scare me.
I can still feel the stickiness of Spencer's blood as it pooled beneath me, soaking my jeans. The terror I felt at having hurt someone like that. The fear of having to confront Ricky and the overwhelming strength I found in taking him down with my own hands.
I glance down, wanting proof that I came out unscathed, but panic seizes me when I realize someone's changed me into a hospital gown. My gaze darts around the room for my bloody old clothes, and my heart erratically scatters when I don't find them.
I had just gotten that picture back, which was the only picture of my mom. I can't have lost it already.
