9
JESSA
“Water?”
The woman looking down at me has feather-light hair that curls at the ends. Her eyes are a soft, warm brown and there are so many freckles on her face that I feel like I could play connect-the-dots with them.
I try to sit up, but my body feels heavy and I wince.
“Don’t move too fast,” the woman advises me. “Give yourself time.”
I can remember everything. It’s weird how clearly and quickly everything comes back to me. At the instant of consciousness, I remember the moment I realized Freya was not actually who she said she was.
Goosebumps prickle on my skin. You would think the fact that I can remember everything would make me calmer, but panic is still building inside of me. Like a ticking time bomb that needs only the faintest of tremors to be detonated.
I don’t see Marina in the room.
But I feel her.
Her blue eyes are latched onto me, waiting for the perfect moment to creep out of the shadows and finish what she started.
“Where are we?” I ask faintly as the nurse counts out a number of pills and separates them into the open vials arranged in front of her.
“The Four Seasons,” she says with a kind smile. “Nicest place I’ve ever worked in. And I’ve worked in some nice places.”
I blink. Is that supposed to be a joke? I can’t tell.
She looks so sweet. Her features are naturally maternal, and the way she’s looking at me is both sympathetic and patient.
But I can’t trust it. I can’t trust my instincts anymore.
“Why don’t you have some water?” she suggests when I wait too long to answer. “You’ll feel better.”
She holds the cup up to my lips without waiting for me to respond. I jerk away so fast that the cup spills down onto the front of my clothes.
“Oh, dear!” she gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
She looks pained as she tries to clean me up. For the first time, I realize I’m not wearing the same clothes I remember putting on this morning. All I have on is a large cotton t-shirt and a pair of panties. Is it even the same morning? I don’t know how long I’ve been out for.
“We should change your t-shirt,” the nurse remarks. “I don’t want you catching a chill on top of everything else.”
I blink again, feeling stupider and stupider with every passing second. What does that mean: “on top of everything else”?
She walks away to busy herself with something on the far side of the massive room. I take note of my surroundings warily. The bed I’m on is massive. I could Stop, Drop, and Roll in every direction and still not tumble off the end.
Beyond the bed, the whole room is carpeted in a luxurious, camel-colored rug that looks deep enough to swim in. Matching blinds are parted to either side of a huge window that offers a jaw-dropping view of the city of London.
It’s beautiful, no doubt about it. But all I can think when I look out at the skyscrapers is, She’s out there somewhere. The woman who tried to kill my baby.
The nurse walks through a door to the right of the bar and walks back out with another t-shirt similar to the one I’m wearing.
“Here,” she says with a bright smile. “Let’s put this on.”
I shake my head and back away from her.
She frowns. “What’s the matter, dear?”
“W-where is she?” I manage to stutter.