I could get beaten, abused, tortured, or killed. But there was no point worrying about the what-ifs.
I figured if they wanted me dead, they’d have done it by now.
Maybe they wanted information. But if that was the case, I had bad news for them. They weren't going to get any.Icouldn't even access the information that was locked away in my brain. It was like a vault, and I didn’t know the code. I didn’t think I had much to offer. But apparently, I was wrong about that.
"Listen, guys, this has been fun,” I said dryly. “I'm glad we could all get together like this, but I really need to be going. I’ve got a hair appointment later."
My dry wit wasn't going over well.
It was a tough room.
I waited a moment, then tried again. "I hate to be difficult, but I need to use the restroom."
One of the thugs groaned.
"Have you done this before?” I asked. “I mean, I hope this isn’t your first rodeo. You do realize dealing with a hostage is a pain in the ass. You have to feed them, give them potty breaks, give them medical care when needed. It's a full-time job."
"You talk when you're nervous, don't you?"
I tried to act cocky. "I'm not nervous."
In a slow, deliberate voice, almost filled with glee, he said, "You should be."
The tone made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.
2
Amonth earlier, I had woken up in a hospital room.
The room was a blur when I peeled my eyes open for the first time. The monitor beside the bed blipped with the craggy peaks of my heartbeat. It read out vital statistics like blood pressure and oxygen saturation.
I was dressed in a pale blue hospital gown with an indecipherable pattern on it. An IV stabbed a vein in my arm, and a bag of fluid hung near the bed. The nasogastric tube in my nose was an indication that things had gone seriously wrong.
Both hands had been restrained.
I was stiff, sore, and weak.
I'm not sure how long I had been out. It felt like I had hibernated for an eon.
I didn't recognize the man clasping my hand. His concerned eyes gazed at me, brimming with what appeared to be tears of joy. "Savannah? Savannah?”
I gave him a curious look.
“Oh, thank God!” he exclaimed.
I had no idea who the hell he was, but obviously I meant something to him. He wore a white lab coat and teal scrubs. But he was a little too excited for a doctor. His name was embroidered above the breast pocket of his lab coat, but my vision was too blurred to read it.
He hit the call button, and a nurse crackled over the intercom a moment later. "Can I help you?"
"She's awake," the man said.
"What's going on?" I scratched out, my voice dry as the Sahara. My mouth felt like I'd swallowed glue.
"There was an accident," he said. "Well, not really an accident, but…"
The nurse entered the room and looked astonished. "Well, look who decided to join the party."
She wore royal blue scrubs and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was a skinny girl who looked like she did a lot of yoga. "How are you feeling?"
