Amalgamate

Chapter 4

Rowan was unconscious, but she was acutely aware of everything that was going on around her. While she couldn't force her eyes open, her other senses were working double overtime. Despite the loud siren overhead, damn near drowning everything out, she overheard two male voices, who had to be the paramedics, talking back and forth to each other about her.

Even though she was unable to move any part of her body it was as though every cell on the surface of her skin was sending input to her brain to be processed. The hypersensitivity she felt was almost painful. She tried to focus on the steady rocking of the ambulance to quiet her mind, but then hands were on her, assessing her and taking her vitals regularly.

He reached over for a stethoscope, "She's some kind of psychic who works for the police or something, and he's some kind of agent with the government. Name's Robinson."

"Robinson?" The paramedic called from the front.

"That's what he said. Sounds like she's had a rough night. He said she was roughed up a little earlier at a bust or something. Could've sustained some kind of closed head injury." He continued taking her vitals.

"I know who she is. I've seen her face on t.v.. She's a psychic." David had seen a lot of crazy shit as a paramedic, but he didn't believe in any of that shit.

"She doesn't look like a psychic." Malachi reached around to fasten in the gurney. "Kinda plain Jane....huh?" He leaned over to take in her features more clearly, expecting to see something...unexpected.

"And exactly what does a psychic look like Malachi? Just get her strapped in so we can get the hell outta here." He didn't give two shits about who she was, he just wanted to get her to the hospital.

Rowan felt herself crumbling at their words, 'plain Jane'. She'd been plain Jane her whole life. No man had ever even taken a second glance at her. And now here she was physically and psychologically exposed to two complete strangers and all she could do was endure it just like she'd been forced to do as a child when she couldn't fight back.

She obviously wouldn't be able to keep her headaches a secret anymore, and after this, if she did recover, she knew Ian would never allow her to go out with his team again. He would say the reality of the situation was that she was an unnecessary liability.

The thought of not working with Ian and his team anymore was crippling. But, just before she slipped into that self deprecating mode again she felt something, something strange, a spark within her. It was like she was powering up for something. She was gaining energy, and strength, like a battery that had just gotten a jump start.

The longer she listened to them talk about her, and how desperate the police force must be for taking on psychics to assist with unsolved crimes, the stronger she felt. She couldn't help but wonder if the guilt and anger she was experiencing while listening to their words was fueling her in this unconscious state. Maybe this was her body's way of trying to wake up? Why couldn't she just wake the fuck up?

She was oriented to everything. She knew the day, and time, and she remembered what had happened at the warehouse earlier that night. She hadn't been hurt, so what the fuck was happening to her?

Anxiety built in her chest. Her eyes darted back and forth beneath closed, paralyzed lids. No matter what she did, she couldn't open them. She couldn't wake-up.

She listened more closely, but when she didn't hear him her hopes fell further. Where was Ian?