I reach the hallway I need. The first room is 101. Then 103. All the odds… all the way down to 109 at the end. Her door is solid wood and closed.
I knock just in case, checking over my shoulder to make sure no nurse is about to catch me. The last thing I want is to be relocated like Beckett. Not when I’ve been getting comfortable around the other girls.
When no one answers, I slip inside.
Soft light comes in through a large picture window. The lamp beside the sleeping girl’s bed is on, too, casting a warm glow across the blankets and part of her face.
Sheissleeping. And sure enough, the room is filled with things. The blue shoes have been returned, sitting on top of a dresser in the corner of the room. There’s also a globe, a Rubik’s Cube, a puzzle box. A vase of fresh flowers is on the other nightstand, closer to the window. The blanket draped over her legs is special, and it seems extra-soft.
I drift closer.
Sleeping Beauty.
Sheispretty. Her white-blonde hair has been well taken care of, and it lies smoothly across her small breasts. They have herin a hospital gown, maybe to better take care of her? She has a feeding tube fed through her nose, and an IV taped to the back of her hand.
My heart pulls for her.
She’s really,reallypretty. Her lips are like a bow, and the kind of natural pink lipstick companies would be envious of. Her eyelashes and eyebrows are dark blonde, and her complexion is pale.
I go to the foot of the bed to get a direct look at her.
A clipboard hangs there.
After only a moment of resistance, I pick it up and scan her chart.
Lyssa Laurent.
I drop it.
Luckily—I mean, seriously,luckily—it’s attached. It doesn’t clatter to the floor, it just swings wildly before settling against the rail.
The first thing that stands out?
Laurent. As in—Kade Laurent.
The sister with the medical bills.
Surely it can’t beher?
And then there’s another thing. Her first name… Not Alyssa. Not Liza.
Lyssa.
I’ve only seen that once.
My heart bangs against my ribs as I inch up to her side. I don’t really want to do this, but it’s a surefire way to confirm.
I check under her gown, and the blood rushes away from my head when I spot the single pierced nipple.
“I’m going to be sick,” I whisper to her.
Everything is starting to make sense.
37GABRIEL
Two years ago
I siton the edge of the bed.
