stomach is calmer, and she’s resting easier now, but I’d like to keep her overnight for observation. I don’t expect any problems, so she should be able to go home in the morning.”
Both men excluded Gaby from their discussion, which suited her just fine. It gave her time to let her thoughts connect into some sort of coherent order.
Luther rubbed the back of his neck in a show of exhaustion. “Is Bliss able to answer some questions about the attack?”
“Physically, she’s stable. Other than some bruises and scratches, which I gather she sustained while escaping the car, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.”
“So I can talk with her?”
The doctor tapped his eyeglasses against his thigh. “It won’t hurt anything, but I don’t know how much help she can be at this point. Emotionally, she’s still very confused and upset. Midazolam often has a residual ‘hangover’ effect. Your young lady was given such a large dosage that she’s still suffering the effects of sleepiness, impaired psychomotor and cognitive functions. Overall, she seems very confused about what happened to her.”
Every word caused Gaby more pain. She could only imagine Bliss’s discomfort and fear.
“How long till her head clears enough to tell us what happened?”
“Hard to say.” A nurse came to the doctor with a message. He read it, then returned his attention to Luther. “It may persist into tomorrow. In fact, she could feel drowsy, tired, or weak for two days or more.”
“Jesus,” Luther swore.
The doctor commiserated with a pat on Luther’s shoulder. “Don’t push her. The quality that makes Midazolam medically valuable, namely clinical amnesia, is precisely what enables others to use it as an effective date rape drug. Victims are unable to give an accurate account of what happened to them, and testing for the drug is difficult. It breaks down rapidly and disappears from the system within forty-eight hours, making its detection in criminal cases problematic. In this case, because of her reaction to the drug, we were able to do a blood test right away.”
Remembering the violent way that Bliss heaved, Gaby asked, “It’s uncommon for most people to get as ill as she got?”
The doctor studied Gaby only a moment before replying. “Fortunately for surgery patients, yes. But because of how she reacted, I’d like someone to stay with her for a few days, just to keep an eye on her.”
“She won’t be alone,” Gaby told them, vowing it as much to herself as to anyone else. “Can we go in to see her now?”
“By all means. But be patient if she falls asleep on you.”
Luther thanked the doctor as Gaby moved to the door.
She abhorred hospitals. Too much of her time had been spent trapped within the sterile walls, her ears assaulted by the clinical concern of staff. Father’s disease had left him lost in his own misery, a stranger in a disease-defiled body. But Gaby, hale and hearty throughout it all, had obtained a visceral detestation of all things related to hospital care.
Father had died a slow, agonizing death, and Gaby, with her special ability, had felt it with him.
She felt it still—whenever she entered a hospital. Her pulse raced, her skin became clammy. Her throat ached and her stomach burned.
But this was a different situation. This was Bliss, and she
Pushing the door open, Gaby strode in with the feigned comportment of a person in charge. At the first sight of her friend, she stalled.
Bliss lay limp in a sterile white bed, her brown hair clean but matted, her makeup smudged everywhere it shouldn’t be. The faded, striped hospital gown swallowed her feminine frame, making her look like a small, defenseless child.
“Hey,” Gaby whispered, unsure if Bliss slept or not. Equally unsure if she wanted to wake her.
Bliss’s eyes opened with drowsy delay, focused on Gaby, then filled with glistening tears.
It was the oddest thing, to be wanted like this.
To be needed. Trusted.
Propping her hip on the side of the narrow cot, Gaby scowled down at Bliss, but kept her voice soft. “Now, Bliss, don’t you dare start bawling. There’s no reason. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“No.” Her bottom lip quivered as she clutched at Gaby’s arm. “Please.” Casting frightened, leery glances at Luther, she implored in a low, hushed voice,
Standing at the foot of the bed, Luther studied her. “How old are you, Bliss?”
As if in great pain and immeasurable panic, Bliss groaned aloud and dragged the bedsheet up to her chin.
Gaby rolled her eyes. “Relax, Bliss. Luther’s no dummy. He’s already figured out that you’re underage and likely a runaway.”
Luther said nothing.
Gaby patted Bliss’s hand. “He’s the heroic sort, which means he’s not going to let anyone send you back to a situation worse than the one you’re in now.”
With mocking irony, Luther agreed. “Worse than this? That’s hard to imagine.”
Bliss groaned again.
“Luther,” Gaby warned, “you know what I mean.”
He touched Bliss’s small foot tenting the sheets at the end of the bed. “You can trust me, Bliss. Gaby’s right. I just want to know that you’re safe, and I want to catch the person who did this to you. Those are my only concerns right now.”
Hope filled Bliss’s expression. “But . . . they keep asking me questions about my real name and stuff.”
“You’re confused,” Gaby told her. “The doctor said so. You don’t have to tell anyone anything, not if you don’t want to.”
New tears filled her eyes. “I am confused. I know you want me to tell you what happened, but . . . I can’t really remember nothing important.”
Appreciating Luther’s silence, Gaby took Bliss’s hand. “Just tell me what you can remember.”
“I sort of remember talking to a boy.” Pain flashed in her blue eyes, but her aura coruscated around her, dancing in shades of yellow—the color of mental activity.
Gaby glanced toward Luther. She hadn’t forgotten the boy that Luther let escape her. And seeing the guilt on his face, she knew that he hadn’t forgotten either.
“A boy? What did you talk about with him?”
Bliss shook her head. “I don’t know. And . . . I’m not even sure it was a boy.” She pressed fingertips to her temples. “I can almost see him. But I remember a woman’s voice.”
A boy and a woman? “Can you tell me what she looked like?”
Bliss shook her head.
Luther stepped closer. “What did she say?”
Her fingers curled into fists. “She was really sick, telling me awful things. Cruel things. But . . . some of the things she didn’t say. I just . . . knew them.” Bliss looked up at Gaby, shuddering anew. “I sound like an idiot.”
“No, you don’t. You sound like someone who was attacked and hasn’t gotten it all together yet. That’s all.”
Bliss hesitated, breathing hard, then she reached for Gaby’s hand. “I remember thinkin’ that I had to get away from her any way I could. Because, Gaby, I knew if I didn’t, I’d . . . die.”
The bitch had really scared Bliss. Gaby wasn’t sure how to calm her, except to say, “I’ll find her, Bliss. I swear I will.”
Bliss squeezed her eyes shut. “I want to leave here, but I’m . . . scared of going, too. Dumb, huh?”
“Not dumb at all.” Gaby leaned down. “But I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Bliss. I want you to believe that.”
“
Bliss’s brow puckered as she struggled with her thoughts. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Luther.”
