1. Ree

1

Ree

"There was no saving them."

She might be right, but facts haven't helped ease the ache in my chest.

With each breath, the pain reminds me of failure. We did everything we could for the man, and while it seems wrong to shove the thought of him aside, I can't let images of him linger in my mind.

And yet they still do.

The long hours of a double shift aren't helping. My limbs are leaden now that I'm no longer in motion, and my mind is losing some of the careful barriers I usually keep in place for moments like these.

I let out a breath and sink farther down into my uncomfortable chair. "Yeah. It's harder when they're young."

I drag a hand across my burning eyes as Tamina lets out a low hum of agreement. I yawn so wide my jaw cracks and when I open my eyes, she is glaring at me.

"You need to stop covering for Sherry. You can't keep up this pace, Ree. ER work is hard enough as it is."

It's a frequent admonishment, and while I should have had plenty of time by now to perfect my response, I don't have a ready argument. It might have something to do with her position being unassailable, but there's no way I'm telling her that. I let out a sigh and run a finger across one of the gouges in the breakroom table to help center my mind.

Unfortunately, nothing pithy bubbles up from the slow morass.

"I know."

"You won't stop, will you?"

I go back to pressing my eyes with the heel of my hands and don't bother responding. She knows the answer.

She lets out a disgusted huff. "Fine. Burn out, then."

I realize she means well, but she never did like Sherry. "She just signed the divorce papers, Tam. Give her a little grace."

"Hell no. She needs to open the sparkle cave and go wild for a nice long weekend. Not mope around while you kill yourself taking her shifts."

I let out a choking laugh. "Sparkle cave? Are you serious?"

She purses her lips and gives me an exaggerated once-over with comically wide brown eyes and raised eyebrows. "I can tell by your tone that yours needs some attention."

She's always had a knack for jolting me out of unhelpful moods, sometimes forcefully if she thinks the situation calls for it. The corners of my mouth lift thinking of some of her more comical tirades.

Well, comical now. Not so much then.

"I love you, Tam, but we aren't talking about my sparkle cave." A groan rises up my throat and to the front of my mouth in self-rebuke. "I can't believe I just said that."

I startle when a deep voice speaks from behind me. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

A blush spreads from my cheeks down to my chest as Asad walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. His muscles flex and not even scrubs can hide how much time he must spend at the gym.

We rarely share shifts, thankfully, because I would constantly make a fool of myself.

He's got those dark, bottomless eyes you can fall down into forever and a smile that promises sin and long nights.

He leans back against the counter and tilts his head back as he takes a drink. I'm mesmerized by the movement of his throat and the shadow of beard against his copper skin for a moment before I make myself look away.

I definitely could do with more of that type of long night.

I turn back to Tamina. She's smirking and I know I'm in for it as soon as he leaves the room. I widen my eyes at her, silently pleading.

She rolls hers, but bails me out. "Did you file that report?"

"Killjoy," he shoots back. "Nice to see you, Ree."

"Uh. Y-Yeah. You too."

I enjoy the view as he walks away, then lean forward to rest my forehead on the back of one hand.

"Girl. You have no game. All these years of coaching and . . . still. Nothing."

"I know," I say again, this time drawing out the last word. "You are right about e-ver-y-thing."

She snickers. "Well, at least I taught you something."

I swing my leg forward, hitting her ankle just hard enough to let her know what I think of her humor. She narrows her eyes at me and there's an answering sting on my own.

Our lips quirk up, but I still see the worry etched on her face. I resolve to say no the next time someone asks me to cover their shift, the feeling of purpose reclaiming some of the space freed up by the slowly retreating ache of failure.

Her face falls into a more serious expression, and I know what advice is coming next.

"You can't keep letting him mess up your head, Ree. You are a great person, and you deserve happiness."

I try to keep looking her in the eyes, but the mere mention of my ex-husband makes my eyes skate away. Then my heart races and my mind shies away, too.

She's right, of course. She always is, but I married when I was young and dumb. I didn't recognize the damage until it was well past already done.

My career I can handle. Finishing my abandoned degree after I found the courage to leave him helped ground me. The past few years working as a nurse has been incredibly fulfilling.

I've also used it as a reason to avoid facing the issue. At the same time, I yearn for companionship and a healthy relationship. What does that even look like? Can I trust myself to recognize it?

My ex seemed great. Until he wasn't.

Interacting with men seems permanently linked to trauma and his voice in my head. It would be really convenient to be attracted to women, dammit.

She doesn't push me anymore, thankfully.

She knows this isn't the time or place. Instead, she begins rattling off her weekend plans with her wife. She always knows just what I need to ease out of being triggered.

Shared moments of peace are hard to find and predictably we're right back to the insanity soon after.

Per usual, I find energy reserves I didn't realize existed to meet each new challenge. After a blur of activity, I'm heading out to my car, my fatigue pulling me down and each step making my aching head pound.

I'm making my way through the covered walkway between buildings when a buzz tickles my hip. I fish my phone out and see a message from Sherry.

Can't face work yet. Not sleeping. Can u cover again?

I tap back an instant reply, my heart aching for her.

Of course! Self-care is important! :)

I cringe as I slide the phone back into my pocket. Tamina is going to pin me with one of her famous scathing looks tomorrow. The verbal lashing will be even worse.

I groan, then keep walking so I can finish my post-shift routine.

As always, I imagine all the horror sloughing off as I take the long walk through the hospital annex and make my way out into the night. The weight can't come home with me or it will disrupt every part of my life.

It would make me less useful to the next person. Or the next.

Sometimes they don't make it. Sometimes it's a life cut entirely too short. If I let myself think of all the pain each passing causes their family and friends, it would be a constant torment.

With each step I feel lighter. Instead of continually recreating scenarios in my mind that might have ended differently, I think of what I'm going to eat tonight. Pad Thai sounds amazing, but I'm too tired to bother ordering ahead.

Not to mention the idea of interacting with anyone else today makes my head spin.

Seems like it'll be another night of staring at a frozen dinner making small circles in a microwave as Sammy twines around my legs, yowling at me for leaving him so long. No doubt berating me for not fluffing his dried food and skipping his tuna treat.

I'm almost to where I parked my car under the flickering lights. The beep of the doors unlocking chirps at the same moment I'm plunged into darkness.

My heart skips a beat and I stop abruptly, hoping to give my eyes time to adjust. There's a scuffing sound from behind me and I whirl. I don't make it far before I'm grabbed in a steely grip and pushed into a nearby car.

My ribs protest the abuse and my heart races.

I try to push away, but a solid wall of muscle and the paunch of an aging man blocks my way. Like almost everyone, he is much larger than me and smells like stale beer, sweat, and cigarettes. I struggle against his forceful grip, a scream cut off by a rough hand over my mouth.

It smells like acetone.

The fumes and jostling make my head throb and my stomach roil.

"It's not working. Ow! Stay still, bitch."

The man's voice sounds petulant under a veneer of hardness. As if I'm the one who started all of this.

The second man's voice is pure menace, and it sends ice racing along my skin. "Just give it time. She'll be down soon enough."

The whiner has me wrapped in a bruising grip, but my lower body and legs are free.

Adrenaline is making it hard to think clearly, but I figure out what they're talking about as I continue to writhe. The idiots are trying to use chloroform and expect it to work instantly.

The side effects rise from memory. Starting with organ damage and ending with hepatitis and I kick even more wildly. It hurts when I connect with the car in front of me, but it gives me an idea.

I keep kicking the side of it until the alarm blares.

"Just . . . stop. Fuck!"

"What the fuck, man? Get her under control."

They seem unconcerned with the alarm and simply yell over it. I'm getting dizzy and fight harder. Each panicked breath I take fills my lungs with noxious fumes.

"I'm trying to not break anything."

"The slimes don't care, asshole. Do your fucking job."

"Fine."

He grabs the arm I was using to rake gouges into his hand as he curses me and twists it painfully behind me. As a result, his hand is away from my mouth and I take in a ragged breath to scream. My lungs are burning and my mind is on fire.

I let out a screech, but it's cut off by the seizing of my abused lungs.

"You're fucking useless."

I scream again, and fingers dig into the back of my neck. The man with the menacing voice slams my head into the car in front of us, effectively cutting off my cry for help. The intense sensation overtakes me and I hang limp.

Though my mind is still urging me to get away, my body isn't following commands as they drag me across the rough concrete and throw me into the back of a van.

I groan at the added injuries, my back and hips on fire, but shakily try to rise.

In the muted light of the van, I'm able to see one of them for the first time. He's masked and his eyes promise incoming pain. He pins me down and stuffs a gag in my mouth as the van moves. It tastes like engine oil and my throat convulses trying to expel it.

Combined with the heady stench of his cheap cologne it makes me heave.

"You're going to pay for that, bitch."

"Leave off, Jeff. You know they won't take her if you do it."

"It might be worth it with this one."

I'm frozen now, hopelessness and dread overtaking my fight response. Locking my limbs down and making my lungs burn as I hold my breath. My tears are no longer ones of rage and are building into a torrent.

It blurs his baleful visage.

"Fuck no. You can find someone else. I've got bills to pay."

The man straddling me curses, lifts my upper body, and slams me back down. There's a shot of pain that reverberates through my skull and then darkness.

My dreams are horrific.

Bright lights. Straps and machines. Something forced inside my ear. Glimpses of gray skin with pink slime oozing down it on the other side of a glass window.

Robotic arms holding me down. Needles with tubes of liquid.

Just as I gain enough control of my facilities to resist, I'm being forced into a silver container that looks like a high-tech coffin with a red lining.

My defiance and screaming are useless against mindless machines.

Their bruising metal grip positions me so I'm facing out, and then a glass door slides across, trapping me inside. I'm about to pound on it when I get my first full view of what's watching from another room.

Naked gray skin with oozing salmon-colored liquid. Black bulging eyes that stare back at me.

"This harem should do well on Zentrea."

Aliens.

My mind is still trying to catch up with the fact that I can understand them as needles stab into the back of my neck. A hiss of air and I'm swirling down into oblivion, my limbs still stiff with shock.