The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Fifty - Awake

LUC

I LEANED FORWARD, mindfully tracking the slow spasm in her eyebrows, the rolling underneath her eyelids, the little sigh blowing out of her nose. I watched, gaze riveted on her like it was the most fascinating phenomenon in the universe, and right now nothing beat it. 

Her shoulders tensed, and Riley stirred, chest rising higher and falling deeper. I almost spoke to accelerate the process, but I didn't want to rush it. Every crinkle on her face snared my attention. I was awestruck that she was in there, wiggling to shatter the cocoon of sedation.

I may have not been there when she went down, but I'd be damned if I wouldn't be here when she woke up. I was staring more than I should, as always, but I didn't give two shits to correct that. 

Her eyes fluttered. They closed at first, then they opened again. She struggled for several minutes, and I didn't think she recognized me. I heard it was tough to see clear after general anesthesia. Faces were blurry. People were disorientered.

"Took you long enough, Sunshine."

She managed to prop her head and snorted tardily. "Not you, again," she croaked, groggy eyes cracked into mere slits. "Am...I... in...?"

"The hospital. Do you remember going to surgery?"

Riley went silent. She blinked, her focus losing itself on a point only she could see. "There was a lot of noise and... and people telling me not to move... I was trying to... to—"

"It's okay. You don't need to worry about that now."

"How did I get surgery?" she drawled, crestfallen. 

"You took a bullet somewhere above your hip, next to your stomach," I said. "You were rushed into emergency so they could treat the bleeding. I was told you lost a lot of blood."

A dislike etched her face, and her gaze fogged up. "No... I don't want to stay here..." She discovered the IV protruding from her skin and moaned. "What's the time? What happened after the shot? And Chuck? I can't miss days of school..." She stopped. The questions fell into forgetfulness as her eyes bore into mine. "Where were you?" 

I deserved a punch in the face. My hand slid over the sheet, sharing warmth with hers. After I checked my phone, I said, "It is seven p.m.. After the shot, classes were cancelled and kids went home. Chuck was dragged off somewhere, but I don't know what they'll do to him. You shouldn't think about that now." I noted the disagreeing flare in her gaze, but didn't push it. "As for missing school, there's nothing we can do. A bullet wound doesn't disappear in the snap of a finger."

She inspected under the sheet, lifted her gown to find what I assumed was a patch over the stitches. She ruffled her sheet back, annoyed. "Great, another freaking scar."

Just like that, she lost track of her last question. 

"Why do they bother you?" 

Her cheeks flamed, and it looked good. At least it was a good sign given the extreme paleness in her features. "I just don't like reminders." 

I thought scars were nice. They were like notches under the belt, proof of hard-won victories. My sister and I, our bodies never scarred. Not all wounds healed equally fast, but none of them ever left a mark our healing ability couldn't wipe away in time. 

"How do you feel?" I asked. 

"Super tired." Riley yawned. "And hot. Is there a window nearby?"

I pinned a hand to her forehead, and realized that her temperature was higher than normal. I examined the vitals on the monitor, but it didn't show the bodily temperature. Under a basket, there was that battery thermometer with disposable plastic cases. I probably wasn't allowed to manipulate the thing on my own, but I rose from my chair and clamped the casing over the thermometer's shaft.