Identity (Editing)

Chapter 21

"Oh my God! I've been so freaking worried about you!" Grace cries, pulling me into a breath taking hug. Literally, I can't breathe. The nurse must have seen this because she lightly places her hand on Grace's shoulder and gives her a knowing smile. A flush appears on Grace's cheeks and she drops her arms, bowing her head.

"Sorry... I just... I haven't seen you in days and after I saw the training area..." She trails off and it startles me. Grace is never calm like this. Grace is never sad. She must have really been worried about me. I know it probably shouldn't, but it warmed my heart to know that.

"But I'm fine." I tell her softly and her hazel eyes sparkle with unshed tears. Oh God, I'm going to start crying too if she starts the water works. Thankfully, she sniffles and grins widely at me and reaches into her bag, pulling out a Dr. Pepper. My eyes widen and I return the same grin.

"You are amazing!" I giggle and practically snatch the bottle from her. Instantly, I feel her small fingers wrap around my wrist, her expression horrified. I had forgotten that I was hiding my arms from her. She slowly turns over my wrist, tracing her long, dark grey nails over the black charred marks. I wince as a small tinge of pain shoots up my forearm and she quickly drops my arm, glancing away.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know..." She whispers as I tuck myself under the safety of the light blue sheets. Dusk has dyed the room hues of orange and crimson and yet, every time I close my eyes, all I see is that deep emerald green. The eyes of the man who tortured me. I shiver and look back up at Grace who is staring at me in concern.

"Sorry, just... memories..." Most of what happened to me has come back and not a moment goes by that I wish it hadn't. The dull ache of the chains still sifts through my body like a ghost limb. It's no longer there but I still feel it.. I feel my life slowly being drained away. There comes moments where I even find it hard to breathe and my heart seems like it will beat right out of my pale chest. Mrs. Wineheart says it's normal for a person in shock, but I can see the concern in her eyes when she thinks I'm sleeping. Duke hasn't come by recently and, for some reason, I have mixed feelings about this. He knows something about what happened to me and I'm desperate to find out what it is. There's something else, though. As much as it concerns me to say, there's a certain connection between us. Nothing like romance, God no, but some bond that I can't seem to shake and neither can he. I still remember his pained expression that flashed across his face when I called his name. Why? Why was he always wearing that mask around me? Did he feel like he needed to be strong? What should he care? I take a deep breath to silence the thoughts running around in my head.

"I should be going soon." Grace says quietly and even I can't mistake the pain in her voice.

"Okay..." I nod and flash her a quick smile. I don't want her to leave, but I also don't want to keep her here. She needs to focus on classes and so do I... I let out an internal groan. Mrs. Habbersham would love to give me 'extra' assignments to help raise my grade. I'm sure the black board that she defiles on a daily basis needs repairing and the erasers need dusting. I can practically see the white smoke from the chalk filling the air around me, filling my lungs... Cutting off my air... The room suddenly doesn't seem big enough. I glance at each of the walls, and know they are stable but I feel the space getting smaller around me. My heart starts to hammer in my chest and the worried look on Grace's face turns to full blown panic.

"Nurse!" She calls, jumping up from the small white, plastic chair by my cot. Mrs. Wineheart rushes in, cursing under her breath.

"Out, now!" She tells Grace with a tone I have never heard before. Grace oblidges, quickly scampering out the door, but not before shooting me one last terrified glance. I feel the burning again, spreading out through my body. My muscles contract on their own, straining against the not so subtle agony. I barely register the needle prick in my tricep or the numness quickly counteracting the previous fire. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion hits me. I fight to stay awake, but coaxing hands lightly hold me down against the bed.