Aside from the pain at the back of my head and my shoulders, my arms are sore and my legs are covered in blue and green bruises as if someone beat me up with the intention of killing me. I can’t stand up on my right leg; the doctor mentioned something about a bad sprain.
After Erika helps me use the toilet, I place both arms on the sink as support and stand up. Pain snaps to my nape and my one good, unsteady leg. I bite my lower lip and remain still, panting, trying to let the agony pass.
I freeze as I stare ahead.
A galaxy of green, blue, and purple bruises cover my cheek, starting near my eye and spanning down to the hollow of my neck.
Still, the face that greets me in the mirror is familiar.
Way too familiar.
I have a slim, tall body like a model. My round breasts are high and perky, and I appear fit as if I work out for a living.
My exotic, blue eyes are so huge it’s scary with all the bruises surrounding them. It’s almost as if whoever beat me was seconds away from clawing my eyes out.
A shiver dances down my spine at the thought.
What could I have done to elicit such strong hatred? Or was I simply a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
My strawberry blonde hair reaches my shoulders in waves. Light blondish highlights add a beautiful hue at the tips. It’s greasy and could use a wash, though.
What type of dye did I use to achieve this color?
I’m a natural, bitch.
The voice in the back of my head startles me.
Okay, natural it is.
For long seconds, I continue watching my image in the mirror. If I recognize that face as my own, how come I don’t remember anything about myself? How come I don’t even remember why my face looks like it’s just come out of a battlefield?
My head hurts just thinking about it, so I let Erika wheel me back to the room.
“Do you feel better today?” she asks.
“I’m good, thanks.” Now that Asher the jerk isn’t here, I feel a whole lot better.
The smile she offers me is motherly and warm. “Asher spent the entire night with you and didn’t leave until your guardian came. How sweet is that?”
Not at all.
I’m seriously contemplating asking if they have surveillance cameras so I can see if he did something to me in my sleep.
Paranoid much? Probably, but I don’t trust that asshole. Not at all.
As soon as we’re in the room, we’re greeted by two police officers and an older man wearing a hat.
Alexander takes me from Erika with a polite nod. He maneuvers my chair so he’s behind me and I’m facing the officers.
“Reina,” he says, “This is Detective Daniels.”
The detective appears to be in his mid-forties with a strong bone structure and sharp brown eyes that have been watching me closely since I came in.
He offers his hand, and I take it. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Miss Ellis.”
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t sit down as he retrieves his notepad. “Do you recall where you were the night between last Friday and Saturday?”