“All right,” Maria says with finality, looking towards Annette. “Annette and I are gonna go do our rounds now. We’ll be gone for ten minutes. Understand?”
I pull her to me and hug her as tight as I can.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear as I look towards Annette. “Thank you both.”
“Your clothes are on that chair over there,” Annette says. “Next to the duffel bag you had with you when you were brought in.”
Anette comes forward and puts Phoenix back in my arms. Then she and Maria head out the door, glancing back at me the whole time.
The moment the door shuts on me, I set Phoenix down on the bed and pull off my hospital robe.
I dress fast, wincing every now and again at the pain. But it’s secondary, a mild irritant to the stress of escape.
Lingering above it all is a vague sense of déjà vu.
I realize I’ve been here once before.
I’ve woken up in a hospital room and fled it towards an uncertain future.
Of course, I found Artem in the end.
But I’m not sure it will be that simple this time around.
Once I’m dressed, I make sure that Phoenix’s swaddle is nice and tight before I pick him up and settle him in the crook of my arm.
Then I hoist my duffel bag onto my shoulder. It’s heavier than I remember, but that’s probably only because I’m weak from the operation.
I slip out of the hospital room and walk through the hospital, keeping my head low so that I don’t have to meet anyone’s eyes.
I walk calmly out of the hospital with my heart beating fast.
Only once I’ve cleared the area do I allow myself to pick up the pace.
Phoenix stirs in my arms. His eyes flutter open and then he lets out a loud and angry wail.
A harsh wind tears at our faces. I tuck my son as close to my body as I can, but I’m still clumsy after the surgery and I can barely balance him and the duffel bag at the same time.
I’ve only walked about a block when I feel someone tailing me. I glance behind and see a shitty black car trailing behind me.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Who has come for me?
Who did that doctor tell? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. Shouldn’t have trusted anyone. They know my name, my real name…
I try to tell myself that I’m paranoid, my fear is getting away from me.
But then I hear the window roll down.
“Esme.”
I freeze.
They’ve come for me.
“Esme.”
I turn slowly to face my pursuer.
And then relief floods me with warmth.