2. Ambulance

New readers, please start here: 1. Survivor

The German Shepard who found me buried in forest debris sits next to the gurney in the ambulance. I clutch her fur. She licks my chin.

I won’t let her go.

“Can’t you get that thing out of her?” asks the man holding the dog’s leash.

“If we try, we could do more damage,” says a female voice. “Best we can do is give her morphine.”

I see a woman’s face hover above me. Her blue eyes are shiny with tears. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“S’okay.” My fingers sink deeper into the dog’s wet fur. “Raina.”

“That’s right,” says the man in a soothing tone. A tone for upset children. For dementia patients. For dying women. “Raina likes you.”

“Trust,” I whisper. My mouth is dry. My tongue feels strange. Like it doesn’t belong in my mouth.

Throat still hurts. Not as bad. But … words stab like daggers.

Darkness creeps across my vision.

“Rest,” says the woman with the sorrowful gaze.

No choice.

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