Read Online Fear My Mortality by Everly Frost - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Everly Frost
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give you any more. So, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt after all.” He paused and added, “Of course, the paralytic we shot you with might help a bit. But not much.”
As if he was sorry. The smirk on his face told me that he didn’t care. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for it—his panic at the Terminal, as though he was trying to look after me, help me. I couldn’t believe I’d let Michael drive me to the recovery center, the very place I should have stayed away from.
Something pressed on my ankles. I couldn’t sense much of it, but I assumed they were clamping restraints on me. I discovered I was right when they hefted my arms and clipped my wrists to the side of the bed. My finger twitched. The paralytic might be wearing off, but I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
They talked among themselves—medical jargon I didn’t understand. More talk of hormones, molecular structure, pituitary-something-or-other. Recalibrating nectar dosage to achieve equilibrium, whatever that meant. At one point, Reid sauntered into the room with a bunch of vials and Cheyne greeted him with, “We can regulate the dose. It should still work.”
Reid nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Just like before?”
Then they receded out of view, and somehow that scared me more. I was sure I was going to die. They’d never let me go. They’d tell Mom that something happened to me, that I didn’t make it. Like Josh.
Reid poked his freckled face into mine. “We’re going to take the bone marrow now. Try not to move.” He laughed at his own joke and disappeared again.
I shut my eyes and tried to breathe, tried not to be afraid, but as the needle pierced my hip, a scream formed in my windpipe. A scream that never came out. Was never heard. But lasted too long.
“Almost done now, Ava.”
Somebody dressed in white moved at the edge of my vision. I cracked open my eyes, desperate to see where I was and who was speaking to me. No more green-lit room and steel chair. No more white bed and sharp lights. But the pain lingered in my lower back and hip, a dull throb.
“It will take a while for her to become fully conscious.” The same quiet voice said, “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Holland?”
Mom’s voice murmured something, and Dad’s joined hers, a rising growl that drew me further awake.
“Yes, very soon, I think. She’ll be perfectly fine.”
Dad’s sharp words cut through the haze. “Don’t lie to me! She’s not fine. She’ll never be fine.” There was a pause and a sob. “I can’t believe we almost killed her at Implosion.”
The white figure tensed and retreated from the room.
Somebody leaned in and stroked my hair. I recognized the ring Dad gave Mom for her fiftieth birthday the year before. “She’ll never be fine again.”
“Mom?”
“Hush. Don’t try to talk.”
“Mom, they did stuff to me.”
“They ran the tests, honey.”
“They put me in a chair and stuck needles into me. They had this stuff and it was black and they called it nectar. Michael’s godfather was there and they took my clothes. And then they pulled out my bones.”
Dad leaned in. I smelled his aftershave. I frowned because Dad only shaved in the mornings, making me wonder how much time had passed. Worse, I wondered what had happened while I was unconscious. “It’s all right, honey. The doctors explained … The drug they gave you to administer the test causes hallucinations. You’re okay. It wasn’t real. Whatever you thought happened, it didn’t.”
“Hallucinations.” I said the word slowly. “Drug. You mean nectar. The black stuff.”
My head ached. I tried to see them better. They had their foreheads together—Mom’s tilted toward the crook of Dad’s neck as he stroked the shoulder of her favorite blue cardigan. She’d had time to go home and change. My neck was stiff, but I attempted to see the window to figure out whether it was night or day.
“Nectar? I’ve never heard of
As if he was sorry. The smirk on his face told me that he didn’t care. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for it—his panic at the Terminal, as though he was trying to look after me, help me. I couldn’t believe I’d let Michael drive me to the recovery center, the very place I should have stayed away from.
Something pressed on my ankles. I couldn’t sense much of it, but I assumed they were clamping restraints on me. I discovered I was right when they hefted my arms and clipped my wrists to the side of the bed. My finger twitched. The paralytic might be wearing off, but I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
They talked among themselves—medical jargon I didn’t understand. More talk of hormones, molecular structure, pituitary-something-or-other. Recalibrating nectar dosage to achieve equilibrium, whatever that meant. At one point, Reid sauntered into the room with a bunch of vials and Cheyne greeted him with, “We can regulate the dose. It should still work.”
Reid nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Just like before?”
Then they receded out of view, and somehow that scared me more. I was sure I was going to die. They’d never let me go. They’d tell Mom that something happened to me, that I didn’t make it. Like Josh.
Reid poked his freckled face into mine. “We’re going to take the bone marrow now. Try not to move.” He laughed at his own joke and disappeared again.
I shut my eyes and tried to breathe, tried not to be afraid, but as the needle pierced my hip, a scream formed in my windpipe. A scream that never came out. Was never heard. But lasted too long.
“Almost done now, Ava.”
Somebody dressed in white moved at the edge of my vision. I cracked open my eyes, desperate to see where I was and who was speaking to me. No more green-lit room and steel chair. No more white bed and sharp lights. But the pain lingered in my lower back and hip, a dull throb.
“It will take a while for her to become fully conscious.” The same quiet voice said, “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Holland?”
Mom’s voice murmured something, and Dad’s joined hers, a rising growl that drew me further awake.
“Yes, very soon, I think. She’ll be perfectly fine.”
Dad’s sharp words cut through the haze. “Don’t lie to me! She’s not fine. She’ll never be fine.” There was a pause and a sob. “I can’t believe we almost killed her at Implosion.”
The white figure tensed and retreated from the room.
Somebody leaned in and stroked my hair. I recognized the ring Dad gave Mom for her fiftieth birthday the year before. “She’ll never be fine again.”
“Mom?”
“Hush. Don’t try to talk.”
“Mom, they did stuff to me.”
“They ran the tests, honey.”
“They put me in a chair and stuck needles into me. They had this stuff and it was black and they called it nectar. Michael’s godfather was there and they took my clothes. And then they pulled out my bones.”
Dad leaned in. I smelled his aftershave. I frowned because Dad only shaved in the mornings, making me wonder how much time had passed. Worse, I wondered what had happened while I was unconscious. “It’s all right, honey. The doctors explained … The drug they gave you to administer the test causes hallucinations. You’re okay. It wasn’t real. Whatever you thought happened, it didn’t.”
“Hallucinations.” I said the word slowly. “Drug. You mean nectar. The black stuff.”
My head ached. I tried to see them better. They had their foreheads together—Mom’s tilted toward the crook of Dad’s neck as he stroked the shoulder of her favorite blue cardigan. She’d had time to go home and change. My neck was stiff, but I attempted to see the window to figure out whether it was night or day.
“Nectar? I’ve never heard of
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