Savage pain shoots through my fingers and up my left arm as someone stands on my hand. A scream rips from my throat, and tears leak involuntarily from my eyes as pain slams into me.
“Shit. Shut her the fuck up before someone hears,” a different female says.
Several pairs of hands flip me over, and something coarse is shoved into my mouth. Blinking my eyes open, I stare up at the girls looming over me with mounting panic. This can’t be happening. There are five of them and they’re young. No older than sixteen, maybe seventeen. They are all wearing jeans and boots, and their sweaters are official merchandise I recognize, confirming my worst fears.
These girls are Saffhards, and they clearly hate my guts. I have no idea how they found me, but something tells me this wasn’t a coincidence, because they were obviously lying in wait for me.
A big girl with long black hair sets her booted foot on my chest, pressing down in a way that constricts my breathing. My heart is racing superfast as fear spreads through me like quicksand. “Leave Reeveron alone!” she hisses, pressing the full weight of her foot down on my body. Although I’m in pain, instinct kicks in and I thrash about, trying to use my legs to get at her, but it’s a feeble effort at best. Throbbing pain rattles around my skull and the back of my eyes, my hand aches, and I can scarcely breathe with the pressure on my chest.
She laughs as she spits in my face. Before I can wipe her saliva off, another girl grabs both my hands, binding them roughly with rope. A fresh wave of pain spreads up my arm as she tightens the rope around my wrists. My screams are muffled against whatever they shoved in my mouth, and I’m struggling to breathe as the bitch with her foot on my chest digs in deeper.
Pain sears through my right side as another girl kicks me in the ribs. “You’re a pathetic bitch clinging to Reeve like that. He doesn’t want you.”
“He loves Saffron,” a girl with stringy blonde hair says, kicking my other side.
“As if Reeve would ever love an ugly bitch like you,” a skinny girl with dark curly hair says. Crouching over me, she drags her nails down my right cheek.
“We need to hurry up,” the bitch with her foot on my chest says. “I’m not going to jail for this slut.”
Pain covers my upper torso in a blanket of agony as they all kick me. The skinny bitch yanks on my hair, and it feels like my scalp is on fire. They laugh as my muted screams echo faintly in the eerie quiet of the vacant alley. Tears stream from my eyes, and I try to stay awake, to not succumb to the darkness, but as they continue to kick me, I lose the fight and pass out.
22
My chest burns, and searing pain hammers at my skull, as I slowly regain consciousness, immediately wishing I could return to my previous pain-free ignorant slumber. Blinking my eyes open, I cry out, wincing at the brash glare of the overhead fluorescent light in the strange room. The rhythmic beeping of a machine elevates in intensity, sending a fresh wave of piercing pain through my head. I whimper as urgent footsteps come closer. “Ms. Mills? I’m Nurse Watts,” a woman says as cool fingers press against my wrist. “Stay with me for a few minutes, and then you can go back to sleep.”
“We’re here, Vivien,” Mom says.
I force my eyes to remain open, avoiding looking directly at the harsh overhead light. “Mom,” I croak. “Everything hurts.”
Her worried face hovers over mine. “I know, honey, but it’s going to be okay.”
Dad pops up beside her. “You gave us quite a scare, princess.” Tears fill his eyes, and I want to reach up and hug him, but it feels like I’m superglued to the hospital bed.
“I know you’re anxious to talk to your daughter, but she still needs rest,” the nurse says.
I angle my head to look at her, moaning as intense pain batters my skull and the backs of my eyes.
“You have a concussion, Vivien, so any sudden movements should be avoided.” Her warm brown eyes are kind as she leans over me. “Your vitals look good, so I’m going to give you some more morphine.” She gently pats my hand. “Sleep. Your parents will be here when you wake up.”
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do. When I wake, Mom is asleep in a chair by my bed, and Dad is holding my right hand.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers, not wanting to wake Mom.
“Thirsty,” I rasp.
With huge tenderness, he props the pillows behind my head and elevates the bed before dropping some ice chips in my mouth.
“You’re awake,” Mom says. Her voice is drenched with sleep as she rubs her eyes.