The Little Lightning Girl

10- Falkirk

James's POV

I must have passed out before we got to the hospital because the next thing I remember was waking up in a cold, sterile, white room. It smelled like chemicals, but I was thankful to be waking up in a room full of chemicals instead of a room full of concrete and the stale stench of dried blood.

The exhaustion I felt was bone deep. It took me a good thirty seconds to work up the strength to pry open my eyes. The ceiling was white stucco, as were the walls. I took a shaking breath and turned my head to see all sorts of tubes and wires connected to my body.

"You are a strong young man."

I managed to turn my head in the direction of the voice and found Christopher sitting in the chair next to my bed. Now that it was light out I could see him clearly. He looked to be in his twenties, with medium brown hair, blue eyes, and a thick Scottish accent that I hadn't registered before. He didn't look nearly as exhausted as I felt, but the purple circles under his eyes betrayed him. 

I groaned and tried to push myself into a so sitting position. Christopher stood up from his seat and helped me lean back against the pillows.

"Thank you for picking us up."

My voice was raspy and painful. Christopher handed me a cup of water and I took a long drink as he started speaking again. My back burned when I lifted the cup to my lips, but I needed water. They'd whipped us just days before the escape, and although the wounds were partially healed, they were still fresh and painful.

"The doctors say you've been through something horrible in these past few months, James. They say you were tortured."

I paused from drinking water, "Did They."

I should've phrased it as more of a question, really. 

"That's all you've got? Who did this to you? Why did they do it? I'm a police officer, I can help you."

I shrugged, "Dunno who they were. Bad people."

It was a blatant lie. I didn't know their names but I knew exactly what organization had done this. But this man was a muggle, I couldn't tell him or anyone here what had happened. And muggle police tended to get too nosy, several over the years had to have their memories altered to erase the wizarding world from their minds. Christopher had been kind, but now I would have to be kind and not get him involved.

Instead I decided to gain some information, "Can you tell me where I am, Christopher?"

"You're in Falkirk."

I shook my head, "Geography isn't my strength. What country?"

He looked taken aback, "Scotland, of course."

"I was a bit turned around."

Pietro hadn't been able to tell us anything other than the day or the week, he didn't even know what country we were in. His uncle had basically kidnapped him and apparated to the warehouse place and never told him why or where they were. His uncle threatened Pietro's sister if he tried to leave.

He nodded, then shifted in his seat, "They found the site of the explosion you talked about, do you know how it happened?"

"Of course, I helped set it off."

I owed him that much. Alana and I had blasted a huge hole in the muggle's land, we owed them an explanation. Of course, we couldn't tell them that it was a magical explosion, but Christopher deserved to know something, he'd saved my life. He could have very well driven off when he saw me with my half-dead friend on the side of the road.

His eyes widened considerably and confusion replaced the curiosity on his face, "you set off the explosion?"

"No, Alana did. I just helped... design it."