Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The moment I was up, I started to black out—my vision becoming hazy before clearing, only to become hazy again.
There was something wrong with my knee, as well as my elbow.
And I could feel warm wetness on my face that I could only assume was blood.
What did me in the second time, though, was letting my eyes wander down to my knee only to find a piece of shiny metal sticking out of it at about mid-thigh.
Stupidly I brought my good hand up and touched the metal in surprise, only to lose consciousness the moment the metal wiggled inside of my leg.
***
“His face—the left side—it is severely damaged. Something needs to be done, or it’s going to heal so that he can’t see.”
I struggled to the surface.
Surely I was hallucinating. I couldn’t possibly be fucked over in the same department twice in my life…right?
“He wasn’t wearing a helmet. I’m worried about brain swelling, and possible brain bleeds,” the man who’d said my face was damaged—again—continued.
I licked my dry lips, and I tried to pry open my eyes.
“I have him on Morphine for any pain, as well as an antibiotic. What I’m waiting for now is permission to take him to surgery for his face. If we don’t do it now, the swelling could cause any number of things to happen. None of which he wants or needs right now,” the doctor continued.
“Where do you want me to sign?”
My mom. Why was my mom here?
“Here’s the papers. Do you know if he has insurance?”
This was a different person. A lady.
“Yes,” she whispered shakily. “Though I’m not sure if it’s active. He just started a job with the police department.”
“He’s a police officer?”
The doctor again.
“Move.”
Tommy Tom.
“I said, get out of my way. I’m taking him up to surgery.”
Then I felt someone moving me, pushing me down a bright hallway.
“Anything on Imogen?”
Imogen? Where was Imogen?
“Nothing. She’s still missing.”
Why was she missing?
“Couple of prospects followed the van while one of them stayed with Aaron. Some gang member died trying to protect Aaron, though. Shot about fifteen times by about seven different people.”
What?
“Cop chick—Stephanie—showed up just in time to witness the kid fall. She ran four of them over with her fuckin’ car,” Tommy Tom said.
Who was he talking to? And Stephanie did what?
“I’ll get Imogen. If he wakes up before we get back, tell him that we’ll get her.”
Big Papa.
“Got it,” Tommy Tom confirmed.
A rather impressive bump that caused my head to jolt had me passing out again—with none of my questions answered.
Though I guess that was to be expected when you couldn’t voice them.
***
“…new face.” Somebody was saying. “Was able to smooth the skin out. Took away some of the scar tissue. He’ll have scars that run along his hairline, but other than that, it’ll be like this never even happened.”
“He’ll know,” my mom replied quietly. “All he has to do is see that blemish free face and he’ll remember.”
“Has he woken up yet?” Tommy Tom asked.
I peeled my eyes open less than an inch, and immediately regretted it.
“Fuck.”
My voice came out rusty, flat, and raspy.
“Don’t move, baby,” my mom said softly. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital and just got out of surgery. No, don’t touch your face.”
“Can’t see out of my right eye,” I told her, trying to lift my hand to touch my face again.
She easily caught it and stopped me from moving it again by placing it against her cheek.
“Do you know what happened, honey?” my mother asked.
I opened my eye again, only to slam it back shut as the same thing happened all over again.
“No,” I growled.
“You were in a motorcycle accident,” Mom whispered.
“I was?” I asked in surprise. “What happened?”
This time when I went to open my eye, I was prepared by the shards of glass that felt like they were embedding themselves into my brain.
The first thing I saw was my mother’s worried face, followed shortly by Tommy Tom’s equally worried one.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring my mother’s concerned stare.
He looked sorrowful.
“Imogen’s missing.”
Those two words were enough to send an electric jolt to my soul.
All previous sleepiness was washed away by a rush of adrenaline as it overtook my every nerve ending.
“What happened?” I repeated, this time to Tommy Tom.
“Gang war. You drove right into it. They were talking—saw you coming, recognized you, and immediately opened fire.”
I closed my eyes and breathed out a shaky breath.
“Do you know where she is?” I asked, lethargy trying to pull me under once again.
“Not yet.”
A nurse was standing by my bed, her hand on the IV.
“What’d you give me,” I accused, slurring my words slightly.
“A light pain med.”
Tommy Tom snorted.
“She gave you a bolus of the good stuff,” Tommy Tom countered. “You’ll be dead to the world for the next four hours. When you wake up, we’ll have her.”