Tender (Book 1 - Complete)

Chapter 12 - Jamie

My throat feels thick—full. Swallowing doesn't seem to be an option, but my mind is so muddled that I don't actually care. For some reason it feels like it's been ages since I last opened my eyes, and yet, all I want to to do is resume sleep. I'm so tired.

I try to block out the incessant beeping that's irritating my left ear, but it's impossible. Muted voices seem to echo from the end of a long corridor, increasing in volume as they near. It's my name being muttered from one of the men that has me pulling myself out of sleep.

I blink.

Beige walls come into focus and I attempt to roll my head around on my pillow to examine where exactly I am. I feel paralyzed. Movements are stiff as fire skitters through my nervous system—though, even the burning sensation searing my insides produces no reaction from me. I see two forms hovering nearby, but pay them no heed until I feel one of them touch my arm.

"Good morning," a voice says and I nod in greeting, or at least, I think I do. I can't even sense my own movements, and moving my head in any way has flames licking their way down my numb throat. "Are you ready?"

I try to ask what he's talking about but the goop that has replaced my brain doesn't seem to have a care in the world. Even as the larger figures reaches towards my face and begins pulling some kind of tube out from my lips, I remain still. Maybe it tears at my flesh, maybe it stings, maybe it's the worst pain I've ever experienced, but right now, it doesn't matter. My foggy mind can't recognize anything at this point—even pain.

A gasp exits my lips as the last of the tubing is pulled free from my throat. For the first time in what feels like weeks, I'm able to take a natural breath. I dry cough into my fist.

"How are you feeling, Jamie?" a man asks from my right.

I find that I'm now able to easily tilt my head in the stranger's direction, my sight seeming to come in and out of focus as each second brings about more awareness. I feel confusion and concern ebb their way into my psyche as I grab at pieces of information in hopes of forming a whole picture. From what I can gather so far, I'm in a hospital, and from the way my jumbled head feels, I'm not okay.

"Fine," I say, since it's mostly the truth. Aside from a gnawing fear, I'm not feeling all that horrible.

"Any pain?" he asks, reaching for an IV bag dangling from a pole on my right.

"No." My voice is still groggy, like sandpaper on rough concrete. The person on my left—who I can now see is a woman, probably a nurse—must sense the discomfort and hands me a glass of water.

"That's the drugs," the man says, patting my arm gently. "They're going to be your friend for a while."

"Who?" I ask stupidly.

"The drugs—you'll be on them awhile."

"Where am I?"

"Midwest Medical Center," the man says, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin towards the nurse. She nods, clearly understanding his silent message, and then scurries out of the room. "The doctor is on his way to explain what's going on," he explains, walking to the end of my bed where my clipboard lays. "Do you remember anything about the accident?"

"What accident?" I ask, too tired to even find alarm in the man's question.

"Okay," is the only response I get. The male nurse nods once, taking mental note of my lack of recollection. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I remain silent for a moment, my mind wandering the halls of my dim mind. I see bits and pieces of memories floating in a chaotic heap before slowly conjoining. There's Dillon and Drew, laughter and mindless banter, a plate of fries, freedom, the feel of wind pressing against my body as I wind through the streets of Galena on my motorcycle, and a sense of urgency.