I became aware much slower than before. I moved one of my legs and was met with pain. My shoulders and neck were stiff. My entire abdomen hurt.
I turned my head and cracked my eyes open a little. The room I was in was dark and silent besides the clock ticking in the corner.
Carefully, I sat up. There was an IV in my wrist leading to a bag of clear liquid beside me. I pulled the tape off and slid the needle out, letting it fall to the ground noiselessly. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed loudly. I glanced around the room again and felt my panic rise.
I kicked the thin blanket off my legs and stood shakily. I guzzled down water from the sink to sooth my burning throat. The window was locked, but the door wasn't. I stuck my head into the hallway. It was empty.
I stepped out and let it shut behind me, heart pounding, glad I was wearing jeans rather than a hospital gown. That would make it easier to disappear.
I didn't see a single nurse until I reached the elevator. She stepped out and smiled at me and my heart dropped. I stepped back as far as I could and let her pass, hoping that she wouldn't recognize me.
I raced in just before the door closed and pressed the button for the first floor with a sigh of relief.
I couldn't remember exactly why getting found by people was a bad thing, but even the thought of getting caught left a sour taste in my mouth. My hands were shaking as the doors opened again.
I passed by everyone, going straight through the center of the long reception room. It would look suspicious if I tip toed around the corners. I kept my head down and pushed the double doors open.
Two streets later, I collapsed against an alley wall, breathing as though I had just ran for miles. My chest sides burned and I had to focus completely on not throwing up. The cold wind bit at my face and fingers.
I curled up beside a dumpster, trying to breath in more through my mouth. I had to get further away from the hospital. Someone was going to notice I was gone.
It took me a long time to push myself back up. My stomach had stopped turning, but my head was light and my legs were trembling. The wind was blowing harder as I left my hiding place. The sidewalk was deserted.
I ducked my head and walked as fast as I could without falling over, which wasn't very fast. Four blocks. Five.
Up a hill. Seven. Nine.
The streets became more crowded, people rushing everywhere in the late afternoon to get things finished. Someone knocked into my shoulder and sent me sprawling into the street. I shoved myself up and jumped out of the way, racing across the crosswalk and out of traffic, ignoring the worried stares and the deafening honks of car horns.
I took off again, even though it became harder and harder to breath.
I reached a series of warehouses by the time it was dark. I was completely numb by the time I managed to find a place to sit. I slumped back, head spinning. In the distance, dogs were barking. A loud siren made me flinch and my ears ache. Everything seemed to become a thousand times louder.
All at once, a blinding heat came over me, and I felt my eyes slip close.
And then I was falling.

YOU ARE READING
The Fate Of The Marked
FantasyBook One in The Marked Chronicles. "He must be Thrown." The angel that spoke stared down at the young boy sedated in the infirmary bed. The angel's name was Aabel. He was timeless. Tall stature, massive white wings that fluttered in agitation...