Faith of Beasts by E. M. Nally

Author:E. M. Nally [Nally, E. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book Boutiques
Published: 2017-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Sancia.”

The voice woke me from an uncomfortable sleep. A day in my pen had me wishing for the comfort of the hospital bed. The pens had thin cots and commodes. There was a camera mounted to the ceiling and twice a day we were brought bottles of water, pieces of fruit, and rice. They were functional cages, but nothing more.

I’d been dozing on and off. The plate on my head made it hard to sleep, and I wanted a pillow and blanket more than I could say.

“Leave her alone,” came Miguel’s gruff warning.

I sat up and looked through the bars. Christopher was crouched on the other side, his face round and placid.

I looked up. The sky outside was pale gray-blue. Dawn.

“Sancia, I need to check your cap.” Christopher pointed to my head.

“Okay.” I climbed carefully to my feet.

It was the first time Christopher had spoken to me—except through the MRI speakers—since the surgery. I kept my movements slow and sleepy as he opened the door, though my heart was racing. I sat willingly in the wheelchair that was waiting for me. He didn’t restrain me.

As I was wheeled away I looked towards Miguel. He was standing at the bars, those inhuman eyes bright in the dim light. He nodded once.

Christopher took me to one of the hospital rooms.

“How are you feeling?” He pulled my chair up next to the counter in the corner. He opened a cupboard and started taking out supplies.

“My head itches,” I answered honestly. He reached for my cap and I made a show of flinching away.

“I’m just going to look.” He reached for me again and I struck his hands.

“No, leave me alone.” I started to rise out of the wheelchair and he grabbed my shoulders.

“Take deep breaths and try to stay calm.”

“I can't, I can't. I'm going crazy.” I thrashed my arms and scrunched up my face.

“Sia, you could hurt yourself.”

“Make it stop, make it stop.”

A line appeared between his brows. “You have to keep still.”

“You’ll hurt me, you’ll hurt me,” I babbled.

Come on, come on, I thought. The risk was that he'd restrain me rather than doing what I needed him to do. I'd managed to tip over a wheelchair while strapped down that time in Bedford’s office, so if he wanted me calm there was one sure way to do it, and the plan hinged on that.

“Try and take deep breaths.”

Christopher turned back to the cabinet and grabbed a vial and syringe. I waited for him to fill it up, then screamed. He jumped at the sudden sound and dropped the syringe to the counter. Whirling, he touched my shoulder, soothing words on his lips.

I shot out a hand, grabbed the syringe, and jammed the needle into his thigh. My gaze met his as I pressed the plunger home with my thumb.

He staggered back, looking at the phone on the wall. I rose carefully.

“Don’t,” I said.

He leaned against the wall, then slid to the floor. By the time his ass hit his eyes were closed.

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