Breaking Eden - (rough draft)

3 - Almost 4 Weeks Later (4/20/2019 Edit)

Video: Disturbed - Sound of Silence

As always, feel free to RIP this book apart by pointing out how I can fix it and don't forget to tell me what you like. Don't worry, you aren't going to hurt my feelings. I eventually want to publish this book so I'd rather have it ripped apart now, when I can actually fix things, then publish it and get ripped apart on Goodreads and Amazon. You know how it is. So do the thing. I hope you enjoy my book. :0)

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3

Almost four weeks later

"Is that everything?" Officer Carly Jones frowned up at Officer Hamlin as he finished his story.

The plain clothes officers sat almost knee to knee, hushing their voices from the prying ears in the lobby of St. Vincent's hospital.

News of the Ghost Girl had spread like wildfire. Within a few days, reporters from all around the country wanted to know her name and, more importantly, be the first to hear her story of survival, of her escape.

Hamlin had instantly felt the need to protect her, like a father would his daughter. He visited her daily. Though most of his time he spent praying alone in the hospital's vacant chapel.

It was a miracle the girl had survived. According to the doctors, she shouldn't be alive. He leaned forward and rubbed at his temples, feeling another migraine coming on.

An image of the girl's matted hair and feral eyes flashed behind his eyelids and, like clockwork, he began to relive that night.

***

When Hamlin moved to slide his coat around the Ghost Girl's shivering body, she froze, as if he was going to harm her. Dim light filtered over them from the open door. The sight of her mutilated body almost made him hurl. She had been severely beaten. Scars and semi-fresh cuts littered her arms and legs. Not an inch of flesh was clean.

Blood seeped from a badly infected gash underneath her left breast. The wound suggested that someone had attempted to cut the damn thing off. What was left of it was nothing but a flap of tissue hanging partially attached.

The rest of the night was a muddled blur of medics and questions - so many questions that he couldn't even begin to answer.

The medics arrived in record time and quickly informed Hamlin that he wasn't, in fact, having a heart attack. He was experiencing an anxiety attack of sorts, brought on by the shock of the accident. And for that he was tremendously grateful.

A week later, when Hamlin's doctor cleared him for duty, he learned what had become of his Ghost Girl. It broke his heart.

Frostbite had claimed all of her toes and the fingers on her left hand. The few fingers on her right hand remained in limbo.

It can go either way. Hamlin remembered the doctor saying. At this point, only time would tell if she'll lose those as well.

Visitors were still denied access to her room. He sat where he could and patiently waited for any information to help ease his mind.

It had been four weeks since she came into his world, and like his late wife Betty, a day hadn't gone by without him thinking of the Ghost Girl, wondering if she was going to survive this ordeal.

In his dreams, he'd wake up in a cold sweat, imagining he'd just crashed his patrol car all over again. Instead of waiting for sleep that rarely came, he'd drag his old body out of bed, get showered and dressed and then head to the hospital with a mug full of coffee. Every day he asked hopeful questions about the girl's recovery, but deep-down Hamlin just wanted to know she was still alive.