The Sleuth Will Set You Free - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Two

Finally, I ripped free of the arms holding me down and when I opened my eyes, I wasn't at Dock Twelve anymore.  No.  I was at Blackthorne.  I was in my room.

So then why was I still out of air?

It was like watching myself through someone else's eyes.  I could see the rise and fall of my chest, listening to the shallow, wheezing breaths.  My body shook, hair clinging to my cheeks.  My clothes still felt just as drenched as they had in the dream.  I didn't know what was happening.  I couldn't feel myself.

My father sat on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes betraying more emotion than those of a seasoned operative ever should.  "Maggie," he called out, lunging towards me.  I pulled away before he could reach, crying out like I'd been shot.  Shot.  Shot.  Will had been shot.  Will wasn't here.

My heart was beating too fast—a wayward piston, pounding away in the engine.  Sooner or later, this engine was going to blow.  "Maggie, please," Dad said again, but I didn't know what he wanted from me.  I had no control.  I wished I had more control.

My throat was tightening.  Everything was tightening.  I was so wound up that my whole body felt like one big bruise, which was probably why I jumped so dramatically when the door to my tiny room busted open.

The light slashed at my eyes, burning hotter than acid.  I was thankful for the shadow that blocked it out.  Matt.  It was Matt's shadow, his hands pointing towards me and waving someone on.  His words were muffled, almost like I was still underwater, and before I could figure them out, Doctor Alex whipped past him.

She squatted down beside the bed, a hand on either side of me.  She was letting me shake—letting me gain control again.  She wasn't touching me.  Thank god she wasn't touching me.

Tears washed down my face, but I didn't know when I had started crying.  Was I crying?  I didn't know.  I didn't know.  Wasn't that the sort of thing a person was supposed to know?

"Morgan—hey!  Morgan."  She snapped her fingers in my face. My eyes focused on hers as she said, "Breathe with me, okay?"

I watched her chest moving in and out, trying to sync my breaths with hers, but it wasn't working.  Not even my breathing was in control anymore, but she didn't give up on me.  She brought her hand up with her next breath, slow and steady, then let it fall as we both let out air out.  She stuck with this, up and down, up and down.  I knew that my breathing didn't match, but she just kept nodding like they were the best breaths she'd ever seen in her life.

But soon I was dizzy.  And the light didn't seem so bright anymore.  And I just barely recall hearing her say, "It's okay, Morgan.  You're going to be okay," before the blackness set in.

- - -

I woke up a second time that same night.  The good news was that I wasn't dying.  Bad news?  I wasn't sleeping either.

I could only ever sleep on one side anymore—doctor's orders—so I was stuck staring at a wall when I woke up.  Night after night, it had been like this, Charlie horses and muscles spasms pulling me out of sleep so often that I had almost gotten used to it.  I was just about to drift off again when I heard the voice.  "Rough night?"

It was my grandfather, his voice low and husky.  Someone had just woken him up—not more than an hour before.  Then I wondered if maybe that someone had been me.

I almost turned to respond, but another voice beat me to it.  "It's the dreams again," said my father.  "I think they're really getting to her."

He wasn't wrong.  To be honest, the dreams were probably the worst part. I'd let myself believe that I had him again—that I'd gotten a second chance at a life with William Kidd in it—but then I'd wake up, and it was like I was watching him die all over again.