Alive (Book 1)

Fifteen

Dying felt like floating. An infinite suspension in the air, almost dreamlike.

            That was what I felt while I had been dreaming. Because I must have been dreaming, as in those dreams I was different places besides the alley in the storm in the town I didn’t know the name of. People were around me, touching me, jostling me. That was impossible, because nobody knew where I was.

            And I was supposed to die.

            But maybe it wasn’t a dream, because when my eyes flitted open and I felt in my right mind for the first time in what seemed like decades, nothing happened. There was so much pain, and stiffness, and I knew I wouldn’t feel that if I were dead.

            Slowly I sat up, seeing I was in a bed of some kind. Where, I had no idea. Every part of my body ached. There was a glass of water on the wooden table by the bed, and a small window across the room with curtains drawn. Swallowing was a sensation akin to needles pricking my throat. But when I swept aside the covers and threw my legs over the side of the bed, that was where the real horror lay.

            My body. It was . . . destroyed.

            All I remembered before passing out was the amateurishly stitched-up cut along my leg, but the sight before me boasted of more. Both my arms were wrapped up, including my leg, and there was a bandage around my head. After sucking in a deep breath, I pushed myself up. Pain pulsated through my body, but I was used to pain, so I ignored it. It took longer than normal to reach the door, and even then I had to pause a brief moment so my body could rest. I was so weak. What the hell happened to me?

            The stairs were the worst, and I was biting back tears when I reached the bottom. The house was huge, and wholly unfamiliar.

            “Ellie?”

            I glanced up, spotting an older woman I had never seen before. She was short and willowy, with curly grey hair and a face that was undeniably beautiful in her younger days. She wore slacks and a blue blouse, refined and sophisticated. “That’s me,” I said.

            “You’re awake.”

            I nodded. “How—how did I get here? Where is here?”

            The lady spread an arm out before her. “Why this is my house, of course.”

            “Did . . . did you bring me here?”

            “Oh, no. Jimmy did that.”

            Hope inflated my heart. “Jim Grayson?”

            “The one and only.”

            “Where is he?” I searched around the immediate vicinity, not seeing anybody. “Is he here?”

            The woman grabbed my arm, leading me away from the stairs and down a hall. “He will be back; he went to meet someone. At the moment you are most important, as he asked me to make sure you were in tip top shape if you woke up and he wasn’t around.”

            I frowned. “How long have I been out?”

            “Oh, just two months,” she said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. But in my head, everything spun out of control.

            Two months.

            Two months.

            You’ve been away from the world for two months.