Chapter Eleven

───── ? ────

Two Years Earlier

She opened her eyes, already trying to steel herself up for what she might see. Or not see. Today, it was the same bedroom.

But sometimes it wasn't.

Sometimes, it was a different room, different bed. Different sounds. But she still had that same wooziness. That same oozing thick fog in her head. That hadn't changed in…well, she didn't know how long.

Trent had told her all the moving around was necessary to keep her safe, but she never recalled the actual moving. She would go to sleep in one place and wake up in another, never knowing exactly where she was or how she'd gotten there. Trent said that was for the best, too. That they had to keep moving. He had to continue to keep her safe.

She got up, pressing her hands to the wall to steady herself so she could go to the en suite bathroom. That was one constant. Whatever room she was in, there was always an adjoining bathroom without a window. Always toiletries and changes of clothes, and while she could shower and tend to herself, it was always exhausting. And she always needed a nap afterward.

She needed a lot of naps.

Because she was hurt. According to what Trent had told her, her would be killer had left her with a traumatic brain injury that might never heal. It was the reason she couldn't recall anything about her past. It was the reason she was bedridden, and Trent had helped ease that by providing her with lots of books and a TV that streamed a lot of shows.

No phone though.

There was never a phone in the room, but Trent had said she shouldn't have one because it would make her brain injury worse.

She used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, her movement syrupy and slow like that fog in her head, and she stared at herself in the mirror. She recognized her face. At least now she did. But seeing her features didn't jog anything from her memories. Still, she tried to force those memories to come.

Because it was important.

She knew that. It was more than just knowing who she was and what had happened to her. She needed to know…everything.

But what was everything ?

What horrible, traumatic thing had happened to her that her mind had blocked it out? She wanted to know, even if the thought of it terrified her.

She changed into clean jogging pants and a loose t-shirt. Judging from the scent of bacon, Trent or the nurse, Bonnie, who helped take care of her, would soon be bringing in her breakfast.

Probably Bonnie.

Lately, it had always been Bonnie.

She couldn't be sure because time was syrupy and slow, too, but she thought Trent was only around about once a week. When she asked Bonnie where he was, the nurse always said he was away on business.

Part of her was glad he wasn't there. And just the thought of that caused her to feel guilty. He'd said he was sacrificing so much to keep her safe, and she believed him.

Didn't she?

Yes, she decided. Because it felt too overwhelming not to trust him. She could barely cope with getting dressed and maintaining her body without adding anything else to the mix.

She went to the window to look out the curtains. The sun was blinding and made her wince. Still, she forced herself to focus. There was a river or a creek in the distance and lots of trees. Maybe the kind of place people rented or bought when they wanted to get away from it all.

There was a slight tap on the door, and before she could respond, Bonnie came in with her breakfast tray. As usual, the fifty-something-year-old woman was smiling, but the smile never quite made it to her weathered gray eyes.

"You're up," Bonnie said. Her voice was cheery. Just a smidge too much.

"Bacon, blueberries, wheat toast, and your protein drink," Bonnie announced, setting the tray on the end table.

Along with the food there were two pills, and she didn't ask what they were for. The times that she had asked, the answer had always been they were meant to help her brain heal.

"Trent's still away on business," Bonnie said, checking the window. It didn't seem to be a cursory glance but rather her way of killing time.

And she knew what was expected of her.

She had to take the pills, washing them down with the only liquid on the tray. The protein drink.

The nurse smiled. "I made the protein drink vanilla today," Bonnie said while she watched her eat her breakfast. "Do you like it better than the chocolate?"

They tasted the same, sort of medicinal. Probably because there were a bunch of vitamins crammed in there. "Yes," she lied. And she paused. "Do I have family? Do they know I'm in hiding?"

Bonnie's smile that wasn't a smile stayed fixed on her mouth. "Remember, Trent told you that your family's dead."

She remembered, but she wanted to know if Bonnie would give her the same answer as before. She had.

"It's just Trent and you," Bonnie added. "And me, of course." The nurse patted her hand. "I'll be back later to get your tray. If you want, we can go for a short walk this afternoon. The sunshine might do you good."

She nodded, eating a piece of the bacon. "Maybe we can go for a drive, too?" she asked, testing that idea.

Bonnie gave her that smile again and shook her head "Not today. Maybe when Trent gets back."

She wanted to ask when that would be, but the fog came swarming into her head again. And a drive didn't matter. Nothing did.

Because she had no choice but to give into the fog, she let it take her under.

───── ? ────