I think I reach out for her and try to say something. The man is inside, the look on his face panicked. The girl screams, and the man calls out for help, but that ringing is too loud. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open, and the last thing I see is the empty bottle of aspirin rolling under the desk.

33

Ivy

I’m not in my bedroom anymore. The smell is different. The sounds. The light. I lie still and listen and try to remember. Something tugs at my arm, but when I try to pull away, I can’t, and the first thing I think is I’m back in that cellar.

Panic grips me.

“It’s all right,” a woman says. “Shh. Nothing to worry about, love.” She has an English accent. “There you go. Just relax.”

I try to open my eyes, but the lids are too heavy, and a moment later, I’m gone again. The light is different when I next wake to the sound of men’s voices talking quietly.

“Dehydration in addition. She vomited most of it on her own from the sound of it.”

“Why is she restrained?” This voice I recognize.

Santiago. He’s here. He's come back to me.

I want to call out to him. Touch him.

“She tried to pull the IV out. We’ll remove those as soon as we can.”

IV?

“When will she wake up?”

“When she’s ready. Her body is exhausted. It’s working twice as hard now. Give her time, Santiago.” I hear affection in the voice of this man.

“You’re sure about that?” Santiago asks. He sounds worried.

“Blood tests don’t lie.”

I hear him exhale. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Doctor.

I realize what that smell is. Why the light is different. I’m surprised I didn’t recognize it before. I’m at the hospital.

A door opens and closes, and someone moves, footsteps coming closer. I smell his aftershave over the antiseptic, and despite all that’s happened and all that he’s done to me, it’s a comfort.

Fingers brush my forehead, then my cheek.

I turn my face into his touch and feel a chill as the blanket is pulled away. But he’s touching me again then, touching me gently, fingers feather-light over my arm, my belly. A hand laid flat there, big and warm.

I want to open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m so tired. I try to move my hand at least, try to touch his, but something doesn’t let me.