This wasn’t because I was angry. Anger didn’t do that. I was numb. Impervious to…feelings.
I put one foot in front of the other, and after several steps, I removed my arms from around their shoulders. Dusty kept his warm hand on the small of my back as I continued forward, refusing to let go until I was in the bathroom.
He smiled. “I’m right outside if you need anything. And I mean anything.”
“Thanks.” I was about to close the door, but then I turned my head back to him. “Actually, can you call Ash, tell her I’m all right? She must be worried sick.”
CHAPTER 22
Cameron
“Ash?” The look on Dusty’s face contracted the muscles around my heart.
Groggy, I shifted on my feet, holding tight to the pole. “Yes. I had the worst dream in my coma, and now I’m worried sick. She must be worried too. Have you heard from her?”
He glanced sideways in Owl’s direction, and then he looked back at me. “Cammie, what’s the last thing you remember?”
“A gu…” I was about to tell him about the gunshot, but I swallowed my words short. I didn’t want to let him know about the fuzzy memory, especially when he was looking at me like I was a crazy person. He’d think I was suffering from amnesia, and he’d make me stay in bed much longer.
And…there was this strange emotion I couldn’t identify that snuck up on me every time I was focused on remembering exactly what happened to me. Something I wasn’t ready to deal with right now.
“Cammie?” he repeated.
“I really need to pee.” I slammed the door shut.
A mirror greeted me, condensation from Dusty’s shower blurring the glass. I wiped it and came face to face with myself.
Startled for a minute at the bruises, puffy eyes and cuts on my lips, I gripped the edge of the sink so I wouldn’t collapse. The IV pricked my hand as I examined my nose. It was definitely broken like my arm. My good hand moved slowly over my body, stopping once at my abdomen and again on my back. These two areas hurt and burned the most.
I wanted to take off the t-shirt to take a look at my back and see if I had new scars, but my hand flew to my head as I sat on the toilet, about to pass out from the sudden pain. Throbbing. Pounding. Exploding heat frying my brain. “Fuck!”
“Baby, you all right?” Dusty’s knock felt like a thousand drums banging at once.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“You sure?”
My eyes shot up. “If I need anything, I’ll call for you. Can you please give me some fucking privacy?”
He swore, his steps moving away from the door.
An angry sob ripped out of my chest as memories flooded through me; the events of the attack crammed in my mind.
Pain.
Fear.
Blood.
Broken glass.
Gunshot.
The pain inflicted by the punches and smashes of a huge man in a mask. The paralyzing fear of thinking I was going to be raped and murdered. By someone who was supposed to be protecting me. A man I knew but couldn’t remember his face.
Blood was everywhere. I crawled away on broken glass, running for my life, my skin tearing to shreds. Horror after horror until he was on top of me.
And then…