Monkey Wrench

Chapter 7

OLIVER'S POV

Ugh. I hate this feeling. Something definitely happened because this is not your normal hangover feeling. I don't even have all my bearings. It's like I'm still asleep but I can think. What is this? The last thing I remember was being at the club. Dakota was helping me to the bar and handing me some water to rehydrate, but I don't think the water was helping. What happened after that? I'm gonna need Dakota to fill in the rest.

It's a good thing my body is starting to wake up. What can I move? Okay, not my toes. What about my fingers? Oooo. I can wiggle them. That's a start. Eyes? Nope. I feel connected to things though. I don't like the feeling of this.

I feel someone grab my hand. I don't know who it is but I definitely know that voice. Granted I have no idea what's being said.

Somehow I manage to mumble out their name, "Dakota," so they know that I know that they're here. I don't know how I would get through this without them. I'm glad they're here, but I still don't know where here is.

I had to have been drugged at the club or assaulted. I couldn't make out what Dakota was saying just now, and I can barely move my body and not even all of it.

Wait a motherfuckin minute. How the hell am I supposed to make a decision about going with this guy to find my sister? She's the reason our dad's in jail for good. She's been hiding since in case he ever escapes to come after her. And, how does this guy even know about my sister? Dakota doesn't even know I have a sister. They think I'm an only child with a dad who ran out on me before I was born. Holy Fuck. This can't be happening.

I'm supposed to be at home and sober for this decision. I know I have to save Dakota. I can't risk my dad getting to them. That bastard will kill them.

And, with that my eyes shoot open. I guess panicking is good for something: gets your body working again.

I blink a bunch and move my eyes all over to get my bearings. My eyes land on Dakota who is holding my hand. They seem asleep or lost in thought.

"Dakota." I'm surprised that it doesn't come out like a mumble as it did earlier, but it is dry and soft. My voice isn't completely there, but it's not weak either. Which is funny because it doesn't sound like a whisper, and it doesn't sound calm and nurturing at all.

They look at me like they're surprised to hear my voice and see me. "You're finally awake Oliver."

That's alarming. I try to sit up but I can't. I start rattling off questions, "What happened? Where am I? Why can't I sit up?" Dax doesn't answer me. They just stare at me like I came back from the grave. I ask another question, "What's wrong? You're being hesitant."

Dakota hesitates before talking, "You were injected with something at the club. It affected your coordination, then you went downhill from there. You had impaired processing and muscle weakness. You were unconscious for a while and even needed supplemental oxygen."

My voice just drops, "So you're saying . . ."

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying," without skipping a beat.

I just close my eyes and try not to panic and try not to cry. Dakota knows I don't like medical stuff, especially hospitals. They don't know why but they also know not to push it. All those years living with my father, I've had enough fill of doctors to last many lifetimes.

I can feel Dax stroking the hair around my face trying to soothe me. I still don't open my eyes, but I need to know. "Does my mother know?" This affects her just as much as me. We both had to endure doctors when I was kid and who knows what it was like when I was younger before I could remember or before I was even born.

"She knows that you were drugged and that you're in ICU," Dakota states.

Something feels off, "There's something more, isn't there?"

"Yeah, but that's for later," replies Dakota. But they add, "You should ask her how well she knows Sky."

"Who's Sky?" I question as I open my eyes to look at Dax.

Dakota hurries out the room while speaking, "I'll leave that to your mom to answer. I'll go get her."

Before they leave completely, I insist, "Dax, this isn't over. I want answers."

Dax confirms, "You'll get them," before leaving completely.

Then Dakota leaves. I'm regaining control over some of my body. I can move my toes and feet now. I can move my hands, neck, ankles, elbows. Joints are coming back but the ability to coordinate movements is still rather nonexistent.