Remnant (The Slave Series Book 3) by Laura Frances

Author:Laura Frances [Frances, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

30

I open my eyes to sunlight.

I’m lying on my back completely relaxed, arms and legs extended, and the only sounds are the steady beeps of the monitor and the air that fills and exits my lungs. I could move if I wanted to. But I don’t want to yet.

I’d rather lie here and feel nothing. Know nothing. Say nothing. I suspect movement will increase my heart rate, and they are monitoring every beat. If I move, they’ll know I’m awake, and the room will no longer be empty.

The blankets I rest in are soft, smooth and warm on my skin. The gown hasn’t bunched around my thighs…I must not have moved. The only memory that surfaces of a similar, motionless rest is when I first stretched on a mattress in the coat factory after running with Ben in my arms. But that didn’t last, because I ended up drenched in my clothes on a shower floor.

Aspen’s face appears in my mind with the same judgmental look she gave me when she found me huddled on the tile. I press my palms to the mattress and sit up. Now that I’m moving, I feel the places where my body is stiff. Hunger gnaws in my belly.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” a teasing voice says, and I turn to find Grace entering the room. “How about a shower today?”

I scratch an itch on the side of my head.

“Can I eat first?”

Grace sits on the stool by my bed and wraps a wide band around my bicep. I remember this from yesterday. My heart beats faster when the band fills with air, squeezing so tight it hurts. But there is an end to this. After a few seconds, it will release. I stare at the blanket until the band deflates.

Grace smiles at the results but doesn’t explain them. “What are you hungry for? Eggs? Pancakes? I could get them to put berries on oatmeal for you if you’d like.”

“No oatmeal.”

She studies me.

“Please,” I add. Then I ask, “What are pancakes?”

She grins. “Just another example of the Almighty’s great love. I’ll place the order for you.”

She stands, patting her legs. “In the meantime, I’ll get you some juice and crackers. The cafeteria’s a little slow this time of day, and it might be better to shower while you wait.”

She returns a few minutes later with a tray holding a small cup filled with an orange drink, and a pack of pale crackers. I down everything faster than I should. Now my stomach hurts.

There’s a bathroom attached to this room, with a toilet, shower, and sink. Grace leads me by the arm, though I’m strong on my legs. She rolls the metal pole with us, where tubes still stretch to my arm, the site now covered to keep it dry. I peek back at the bed.

Her index finger points to a red cord hanging from the shower wall. “Pull this if you need help. I won’t be far.”

She exits, and I avoid my reflection in the mirror above a sink.

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