Dr. Pana smiled, and the overwhelming sincerity of it scared me more than any blatant evil could. "I see you've finally completed the puzzle. Yes, I destroyed your precious art. You caused quite a ruckus with this organization, garnering attention we couldn't allow."
Grief and fear blasted through my body and shook me to my core. "And Mr. K?"
"He won't be bothering us again."
My heart shattered and my lungs stopped working. I coughed out a sob. The fingers around my mind tightened, and my grief burned into pure rage. He had destroyed my life, my dreams, and Mr. K. I would make him pay... for everything.
A stillness settled on my mind, and I stopped fighting his influence. Instead, I observed every detail of the experience, and then I noticed—he was clumsy, unskilled. He couldn't dig deeper, couldn't unearth my secrets. He may have had access to my powers, but he lacked my training and skill. I could use that against him, somehow.
Too much had happened, too many new revelations. I needed time alone to consider, to talk it through with Drake. And I needed access to my own body.
"Can you at least get these restraints off me? It's not like I'm a threat in my current state."
He pushed his body against my hospital bed, blocking any view I had of the door and trapping me in his scent—a cloying blend of too-sweet body odor and too-musky cologne. "That could be arranged. Just remember, Sam, you have no power here. I control you and everyone at this hospital. Don't resist me and don't fight me, are we clear?"
I smiled sweetly. "Crystal."
Like a snake, his skin slithered against mine as he undid the latches on my restraints. I rubbed my raw wrists and ankles, and stretched my sore, cramped body.
"Nurse Susie will be in shortly to show you to your room and explain the rules. Feel free to make yourself at home. We want you to enjoy your stay here, however long it might be." He turned and left.
I tested the limits of my battered body. When I stood, all the blood rushed from my head, leaving my feet feeling heavy and awkward, and my head pounding.
I gripped the railing of my hospital bed and pulled aside my gown to examine myself. Red and purple bruises had created a new map on my pale skin. My stomach curved out in a barely noticeable bump. I wrapped my gown around me before anyone else could see—just in time to avoid the prying eyes of Nurse Susie as she pushed open the door.
The shift of attention offset my balance, and I reached for the nurse's arm to steady myself. She started to shy away, but apparently remembering her job, put her hand on my waist to steady me. She helped me sit in the wheelchair and hold onto my IV pole, and we made our way down the hall.
Bare, boring beige walls led to my new room, which had a twin bed with a blue comforter that looked clean enough. A modest closet, a private—but basic—bathroom, dresser, desk, and a small nightstand by the bed made it seem less like a prison. Any apartment I could have found in the Big Apple would probably have been smaller. The remote next to my bed controlled a television hooked to the wall, beyond my reach. A small barred window overlooking the woods reminded me that I was still in prison. Once again, I wished for Luke's superpower of walking through walls.
"Your personal items have already been put away. I'll bring your meals at 7:30 AM, 12:30 PM and 5:30 PM. If you need anything else, just ring that bell by your bed, and someone will respond immediately." She said this as if to suggest that ringing the bell would be frowned on.
"Am I allowed to go outside, walk around or work out anywhere?"
She eyed me and placed her hands on her hips. "You'll get one hour of outdoor time every day after lunch. There's a gated courtyard where you can take a walk."
"Wow, this is just like I always imagined prison would be."
"I suggest you learn to appreciate what you have here. Not all are so lucky."
I thought of Drake, strapped down and drugged. When was the last time he got to exercise or move around? Better off than him, but lucky? Not so much.
The nurse left me alone in my room, with only the monotony of my new life to occupy my mind.
Thank God I still had my connection to Drake, but first I needed to get cleaned up. They'd stripped me of my bloody, torn dress, but I still smelled of airplane debris and death.
I pulled my IV across the room to my bathroom and used up what little strength remained to wash myself. Dirty water swirled into the drain, and I kept rinsing and washing until that water ran clear. If only I could cleanse my insides so easily.
Sapped to near exhaustion, I searched the closet for clothes—something familiar and comfortable—and found some sweatpants and a t-shirt. I took the IV bag down and pulled it through the sleeve in my shirt, allowing me to dress. I was tempted to tear the damn thing out, but my loving nurse probably wouldn't like that very much.
Once tucked into bed, and before sleep could overtake me, I reached out to Drake. "I think I have a plan."
Chapter 19 – Sam