(Un)bidden (12 page)

Instead of trying to grab his will,
my
will surged from me, a thick unyielding cane comprised of a single thought: Get off me.  I hit him right between the eyes with it.  To my shock and pain, he flew backward, his teeth ripping from my skin.  I gasped and whimpered as he hit the dresser with a crash.

My shaking hand automatically went to my neck, trying to ease the pain there.  I was making weird noises that I couldn’t seem to stop.  The man stirred.

My door crashed open, and Winifred flew in.  Her eyes widened at the sight of me on the bed.

She didn’t pause to address the man but came to me and gently lifted my hand.  I focused on her, desperate for someone to help make the pain stop.

“Mary, your sheets,” she said.

There was a slight rustle, and Mary appeared at Winifred’s shoulder with the sheet from her bed.  Winifred grabbed it and pressed the material against my neck.  Something crunched sickeningly.

God, he broke me.  I struggled to think past the pain.

It took a moment to realize the sound hadn’t come from me.  My eyes wandered a bit, and I saw Thomas, his face twisted in anger.  He had a hand wrapped around the throat of the man who’d bitten me.  He opened his grasp and dropped him.  The man’s head lolled on his shoulders, his eyes open and vacant.

“Thomas, we need to get her to a hospital,” Winifred said.

I shifted my attention back to her worried face.  She didn’t meet my eyes but focused on the sheet she held to my neck.  That scared me.

Thomas moved closer and stared down at me.

“They will ask questions,” he said softly.

“I know.”

They shared a look.  I sobbed a little.  They were going to let me die to keep their secret.  I wanted to tell them they didn’t need to worry, but I couldn’t talk.  My throat didn’t want to work.

“I’ll carry her,” he said.  Surprise and relief made me sob again.

Winifred nodded.

“Mary, hold the cloth.  Keep moderate pressure on it.  I’ll get the truck.”

“Truck?” Mary said, bending to take over.

“We can’t run with her.  It would hurt her more.  The truck is the best option we have.”

Thomas picked me up, holding me gently.  Mary walked with him, keeping pressure on my neck.

“Stay with me, Charlene,” he whispered as we moved.

If they would just stop biting me...

*    *    *    *

Voices pulled me from the dark place.  My neck hurt so much my eyes watered; the sensation of those tears trickling down my cheeks woke me further.  I was lying flat but felt like I was moving.

“...animal attack...”

“...form of ID...”

The conversation danced around me, and I couldn’t focus fully enough to understand it.

“Help me,” I rasped.

A hand gently touched my shoulder.

“We’re going to fix you up, honey,” a strange voice said.  “Can you open your eyes?”

I tried and couldn’t quite manage.  Was I dying?  I thought of my mom and her request to call her when I could.  Would she have to live the rest of her life never knowing what became of me?

“Help me.”  Tears and my torn throat made it hard to speak.

“We are, honey.  Can you tell us your name?”

The moving stopped.  I heard counting, a quick moment where I felt like I was floating, then I settled on a solid surface again.  I didn’t know what was happening, and it terrified me.

Behind my eyelids, I focused and found three strands of will near me.  I gently reached out and touched each one.  I wasn’t imposing my will, rather feeling their wills.  One of the wills was a doctor.  He remained focused on examining me.  He wanted to stop the bleeding.  The two nurses were there to help the doctor and comfort me.

Someone put something cool on my neck.  It stung and tears started streaming in earnest.

“This will hurt for just a moment and then you shouldn’t feel a thing,” the doctor said.

I breathed through the pain until it, and the stinging, eventually faded.  A relieved sigh escaped me.

“All right.  I need you to hold still for a bit.”

I held still and drifted.

*    *    *    *

In that odd place between sleep and awake, I was only vaguely aware of the next few hours.  After the doctor stitched me up, they brought me to another room.  I wasn’t sure why and was a bit too tired to care.

They gave me a pill to swallow, and it was a hard task to complete.  Though my throat didn’t hurt, it didn’t quite want to work the way I thought it should.  After I sputtered and choked a bit, the pill went down, and the nurse let me be.

I dozed a while, happy with the quiet.  Then the doctor was back with a man in a uniform.  What were police called in Canada?  I liked his hat and smiled at him.

“Miss.  Can you tell me your name?”

My name.  I almost answered but then remembered why I couldn’t.  Penny.  I had to stay hidden.  I touched his will.  Suspicion, worry, and impatience lay there.  I soothed them away and replaced them.  The girl looks tired.  Poor thing.  She should be resting, not trying to speak.

I barely shook my head to answer his spoken question.  The man sighed and patted my hand.

“I understand.  Your throat must hurt.  I’ll try back later.”

I nodded ever so slightly and watched him turn to leave.

“Are you able to speak, miss?” the doctor asked, eyeing me with concern.  “The bites weren’t too deep, and missed your—”

“I can speak,” I said slowly.  “But everything is spinning.”

He nodded.  “You lost quite a bit of blood.  Nothing that should require a transfusion, but your blood pressure is low, and we’re keeping an eye on it.  I made the stitches as small as possible.  Between that and your age, the scars will hopefully fade into nothing with time.”

I didn’t care about scars.  “Can I leave?”

“We’d like to see your blood pressure improve before we send you home.”

He left, and I dozed again.  When the nurse came to check on me, I woke and asked for another drink.  She returned with a full cup of water then took my blood pressure.

“Your blood pressure is holding steady.  I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake again.  I’m sure there are a few people who need to speak with you if you’re up for it.”

Her will was too cloudy to read.  So I grabbed it.  “Tell me what you mean.”

“Administration will want to talk to you.  We’ll need your social insurance number to submit your stay for reimbursement.  And the Mountie is waiting.”

I knew what the Mountie wanted.  I also knew I couldn’t afford to stay any longer.

“I need a few things so I can leave,” I said.  “Medicine if this becomes infected, bandages, creams, salves, or whatever else you think might help.  Please get everything and bring it back here as fast as you can.”  I could feel her resistance as she nodded slowly.  “After you give them to me, you will forget me entirely.  If anyone questions why you can’t remember, you work a lot and need a break.”

I held firm until she gave in.

*    *    *    *

With a small paper bag filled with supplies, I slowly made my way out of the room I’d occupied.  Lightheaded, I had to keep a hand on the wall so it didn’t feel like the room was spinning so much.  Any staff member who moved to question me, I turned away.  The effort and the constant struggle of wills exhausted me more than walking.

When I made it down the hallway, I came to a set of double doors and peered through the small windows into the waiting area.  Winifred and Mary tensely sat on the couches near the entrance.  Across the room, the Mountie was having a friendly chat with one of the staff.  I lightly touched everyone’s wills to gauge the situation.

The Mountie wanted to speak with me again.  A woman behind the reception desk wanted to question Winifred about who I was.  I delved deeper and understood that Winifred had claimed to find me on the road and had given everyone a false name.  I influenced the woman to forget Winifred and Mary’s association with me and did the same with the Mountie.  No one else in the room really cared about us.

Winifred spotted me and stood as I pushed open the door.  My knees wobbled unsteadily with each step, and I felt cold and dizzy.  I kept my focus on the exit and the people around us.  Winifred hovered beside me.  Mary wrapped her arm through mine and let me lean on her.  It helped.  But I hoped they would catch me and run if I passed out.

No one paid us any attention as we crossed the room.  They wouldn’t remember us leaving.

Outside, the sun hung low in the sky.  I’d lost another day to another bite.  I was as mad as I was annoyed.

Mary led me to the truck, and I carefully climbed in.  The numbing medicine the doctor had put on my neck was starting to wear off, or maybe it was the pill the nurse had me swallow.  Either way, the pain crept in; and the ride back home was rough.

Home.  What a funny word with so many meanings.  Home wasn’t a place I liked.  It wasn’t where the people who loved me lived.  Home was the place I slept.  Nothing more.  Should I really call it home then?  What would I call it if not home?  It was so much closer to a prison with wardens who liked to bite me.

My thoughts drifted as the truck bumped its way along the road.  Mary had her arm around me, and I rested my head against her shoulder to help against the jarring.

The driveway to the buildings was the worst, even with Winifred going so slow.

“Stop,” I finally said.  “I need to walk.”  If I stayed in the truck, I would throw up.

Winifred eased the truck to a stop.  Mary and I got out.  The waist high grass was no longer untouched.  Two paths, from Winifred’s visits, marked the way.  I thought it might make walking easier, but my feet tangled in the matted grass and I tripped often.

“I can carry you,” Mary said as she walked along beside me.  I didn’t doubt she could.

“Thank you, but I think it would be better if I walked.  Maybe I could hold your arm, though,” I said when I almost fell again.  I wrapped my fingers around her upper arm and moved forward.  Having her as an anchor did help steady the spinning.  The fresh air and slow pace settled my stomach, too.

Winifred followed us with the truck.  My shuffling pace forced her to stop frequently, but neither she nor Mary said anything about our progress.  I kept my eyes on the ground until I noted a patch of grass ahead where the shade gave way to sun.  We’d almost reached the clearing.

I looked up.  The men must have heard the approach of the truck because they all stood silently waiting.  For what, I didn’t know.  But as long as I had their attention, I would use it.

I stopped walking and turned to Mary.  Behind us, the truck’s engine quieted.

“Can you help me take the bandages off?”

She glanced at the truck then back at me before she reached forward and gently peeled the tape back from my skin.  I held myself still through each tender tug and watched her face.  Worry pinched her brow when she saw the stitched wounds for the first time.  I hadn’t yet seen them for myself and doubted I would here, not unless I used one of the mirrors on the truck.  Based on her reaction, I might be better off if I didn’t look.  However, I wanted everyone else to see.

Once she had the bandages in her hand, I started forward again.  This time without her support.  I slowly wove my way through the men, more concerned with my pain than their intense attention.  When I stood in the center, I carefully turned and let my gaze sweep them.

“Biting hurts,” I said, enunciating each word as if I spoke to toddlers.  “Stop biting.”  When I found Thomas and Gregory in the crowd, I stopped moving.  “Kindness and consideration are not games.”

Thomas gave a barely perceivable nod.  Satisfied, my gaze passed over the men surrounding me.  Their expressions no longer held aggression or eagerness.  Each held a mixture of guilt and concern.

“I need a week.  Please, leave me alone.  I just want to sleep.”

Most of the men around me had the grace to look away.  I should have felt triumphant, but the pain in my neck robbed me of my victory.

I trudged to the door, and everyone parted to make way for me.  It was odd to see the group so still and silent.  Even the ones on four legs.

Mary moved ahead and opened the door for me, but Winifred remained behind.  Inside, the table was set, and a rabbit was on the fire.

I ignored the food, went to the pump, and dug in the bag for the pills the nurse gave me.  I shook out a painkiller, ignored the antibiotics, and reached for the pump handle.

“Let me do that for you,” Mary said.

She pumped a cup of water then followed me as I slowly made my way upstairs.  I stood in the doorway and blinked at the room.  The man was gone, but there was blood on my pillow.  Quite a bit of it.  Some even sprinkled the fitted sheet.

“Here,” Mary said, quickly grabbing the pillow from her bed and exchanging the two.

I willingly lay down, and Mary covered me with an extra blanket.

Maybe sleeping on bloody sheets was just one of those things I needed to get used to while living here.