As the doctors and nurses rushed into the room, they tried to get him and Linc to leave but they weren’t having it. “We ain’t fucking going anywhere, so just fucking help her!” he hollered at the nurse.
Finally realizing they weren’t leaving, she went back to helping while he pulled out his cell to call her parents. When the line was picked up, he didn’t even let them speak before he said, “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?” one of her dads asked. He couldn’t tell who.
“Just get here quick,” he demanded, hanging up.
Watching as the doctors worked on her, he felt a foreboding in the air like something bad was about to happen; he just wasn’t sure what. When she let out an ear-piercing scream that made everyone wince followed by whimpering Linc’s name, they both stood up straighter and went to her. The doctors wouldn’t move so they pushed their way in, grabbing her hands as she continued to moan and cry.
“Fuck, Creed.” Linc was pale as a ghost as she kept murmuring his name repeatedly until her body finally gave up whatever was happening to her.
Running his fingers across her sweaty face, he was startled when her eyes popped open and met his. The confusion in them was heart-breaking as it slowly morphed into fear. “Kennedy,” he whispered.
“Make it stop,” she pleaded in a broken and cracked voice before going unconscious again.
“What… the fuck… was that?” he demanded menacingly without taking his eyes off her tortured face.
When Linc growled, he finally looked over to see a nurse bringing a needle closer to her IV that was in the hand he was currently holding, “What is it?” he snarled, closing his hand over the opening before she could inject it.
Patting his arm, she showed him the vial it had come from explaining, “Just some Ativan, young man, to calm her racing heart.” Pointing to the heart monitor, they saw how fast her heart rate was. Linc nodded his head at the nurse after moving his hand away.
“What was this?” Linc demanded again.
When the doctors and nurses all looked to each other, he knew the answer before anyone spoke. “Honestly, we have no clue, but I think we’ll have to bring her out of this coma sooner rather than later now,” one of the doctors explained just as her parents rushed in the room.
“What’s happening to my baby?” her mother Amber cried out.
“We were just explaining to her men that we’re not sure. She started convulsing like you would if you were having a seizure, only the brain monitor says she wasn’t. I think that whatever happened to her that day is replaying in her mind and now, she’s fighting her way out,” that same doctor explained to them.
“What does that mean exactly? Is something wrong? Will she be ok?” her dad Jackson asked.
“She’ll be as well as can be expected under the circumstances. As for what it means— we’re going to have to start weaning her out of this coma now rather than in the few days like we expected. Otherwise, she may never come out,” he said gravely.
Two
Drowning. Death. Despair.
Drowning in the memories of her torture.
Wishing for a Death that never came.
Lost in the deep, dark, sadistic sea of Despair.
Kennedy Maxwell no longer knew where she began and they ended. She was lost in a mind that was stuck on replay. She’d been in a coma for nearly five weeks.
Five weeks trapped in her mind.
Five weeks of endless torture.
Now, almost a month later and endless days of watching the people she loved trying to help her but not knowing how, she felt worse knowing her family was hurting because she was. Learning who those two dark voices were was a relief. They had saved her, over and over again. They kept her sane enough from going anymore over the edge than she already had.
But now they’d been called away on a mission. She didn’t know when they’d be back and she was slowly losing her mind again; it was like she was living outside her body. She could see everything happening around her but she was disconnected or removed from it all. Her parents were there in her hospital room and she was awake. They were talking to her, asking her questions, but for the life of her she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.
That woman… That evil thing the media had dubbed The Gypsy Butcher had done something to her. It was like she had flipped the off switch in Kennedy’s body. The physical pain was gone but the memories remained.
Sick of the chaos and questions, she whispered quietly but forcefully, “Leave.” Not wanting to look at anyone, she turned away and closed her eyes. Unsure if they listened to her demand or not, the noise level had gone down so she thought they might have.
Feeling a hand on her arm had her jumping in shock. “Kennedy, baby,” her mom was pleading with her, wanting to stay; she could tell. She refused to look at anyone. She wanted to be alone. They didn’t need to know about her personal hell, about what had happened. It was bad enough she knew.