Turncoat: Turncoat Trilogy Book 1

Chapter 21.3

The door opening behind me brought me back as it had every time before. Whatever it was about that soft click of the lock followed by the creek of the hinges, it could draw me out of whatever cocoon I had tried to mentally build around myself to ignore the pain that settled into my torso and legs. Most of that pain had been reduced to dull pulsing from every inch of my being.

I braced myself for another barrage of questions. I was running out of information that skirted around the topics they wanted to know about. Answering their questions seemed to keep the beatings at bay, but this time, the room remained silent. The footsteps that entered were cautious and slow, maddeningly slow. The remaining bloodsoaked fabric on my back was brushed aside and I heard a soft gasp.

Someone lifted my head and peeled one of my eyelids open. The light rushing in sent a spike of pain through my head and I tried to pull away but nothing happened. My head refused to listen to my commands. There was a jumbled sound and the light vanished, plunging me into comforting darkness once more. The cooper taste in my mouth had vanished at some point but left my throat dry and parched. My arms tingled when my head had been lifted, like a thousand needles were jabbing into them every second. Jarring pain shot through them when my chin touched my chest once more.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around me and lifted, alleviating the pain in my shoulders and wrists. A hand cradled the back of my head while around held me around the waist. The muscular chest felt warm as it pressed tightly to me. I could hear voices around me, talking in concerned tones. The words were a jumble and I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“What do you want to know?” I tried to ask but all that came out was a moan. My arms dropped from their suspended position, gravity taking hold as I collapsed saved from hitting the ground by the man holding me up. Something soft went around my shoulders and the ground appeared below my back, the hands vanishing along with their warmth. I tried to reach out for the rapidly receding heat but my hand responded sluggishly, barely lifting.

“She’s been suspended too long,” someone said. Sounded female but it was hard to tell.

I struggled to open my eyes, managing to crack one open. Harsh light flooded in and a groan escaped my lips. Smaller hands touched my cheeks, soft, gentle and warm. “Tawny?”

Tawny.

That sounds really familiar.

Wait...that’s me.

My name is Tawny.

That’s right.

“Tawny, can you hear me?” the same voice asked.

“Yes,” I said, or tried to anyway. A sound came out of my lips, I would hesitate to call it a coherent word.

“She’s barely conscious,” a faint voice said.

Well at least they’re making sense now.

“She won’t be able to walk herself out of here. Someone will have to carry her.”

The ground vanished once more and heat pressed against my side. My head found the divot between my carrier’s shoulder and neck. Resting there, I could hear the steady beat of their heart and at some point, it faded away.

When I came back around, my eyes opened further this time and easier. I could hear the thrum of an engine and felt someone’s legs below my shoulders. Hand’s held my head, cradling me protectively. I could make out Vicki’s hair above me. Sunlight caught her face, illuminating her features and accenting them. The worry in her eyes as she stared at someone I couldn’t see, how her bloodied lips were cast down in a frown. Her brow furrowed as she began to scowl, the expression not suited at all to her soft features.

“She’s not going to die!” Vicki snapped. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“You can’t shout, you might stress her,” a gentle voice said.

Who were they talking about?

“She’s not going to die,” Vicki whimpered, a tear tracing it’s way down her cheek. her grip on my head tightened momentarily before she loosened her grasp.

I wanted to reach out and comfort her but my arms were screaming in agony where they lay. My chest throbbed where they thrust the prods, protesting even my soft breathing with stabbing agony in several locations. Before I could catch her attention, darkness closed in from everywhere at once, slamming down around me and nullifying the pain.

Then it was just a montage of images here or there. People knelt over me with blood smeared on their chests and faces. Always dark, always quiet. The only sound coming through the wall, a barely coherent warble that could have been anything. The last thing I felt before everything went dark for a long time was a pair of lips crushed against mine and a whispered “please don’t die.”