Kidnapped Love

Chapter 28

Chapter 28:

Consciousness creeps in, and my eyes flutter open to the familiar yet disorienting confines of a hospital room. The sterile scent mingles with a faint floral fragrance from the nearby table adorned with tokens of affection. My mother's soft breathing syncs with Ron's louder, rhythmic snoring as they find solace in each other's presence, her head resting gently on his shoulder. His green eyes are hidden under heavy lids, and I'm momentarily comforted by their presence.

Pain throbs through my skull like a persistent drum, my vision swimming with each blink. It feels as though my brain is swathed in cotton, the world appearing hazy and distant. The room, with its pale walls and the incessant beep of nearby medical equipment, echoes the last time I was bound to a hospital bed—only now, the sense of foreboding is far more acute.

A cool line traces down my arm, pulling my attention to the IV needle piercing my skin—a lifeline in the form of saline drip. I move, an instinctive shift to sit upright, but my body protests with sharp stabs of pain that ignite memories of Byron's assault. Muscular and towering, Byron looms in my mind's eye, his brown hair a dark halo in the stark light of recollection, his deep, raspy voice resonating with threats.

Gritting my teeth against the discomfort, I ease myself into a sitting position, ensuring not to disturb the IV line's delicate intrusion. My fingers tentatively explore the back of my head, finding the rough texture of a gauze bandage. The contact sends a fresh wave of pain ricocheting inside my skull.

I take a few deep breaths, willing the pain to ebb away. I clear my throat, a tentative sound at first, then stronger. Relief washes over me as my voice doesn't falter. I'm still here, still fighting.

I focus myself on my strength within and ready myself to face whatever comes next.

I reach to the nearby table for a white cup of ice chips. The chill of the styrofoam cup seeps into my palm as I clumsily jiggle it, coaxing the ice cubes to break their frozen embrace. The clinking sounds shatter the silence, stirring my mother from her doze. Her blue eyes, clouded with concern, snap open and fix on me. A gasp escapes her lips as she shakes Ron's arm, urgency knitting her brows.

Ron stirs, his eyes bleary with sleep, but he straightens as Lori collapses beside my bed, her hands finding mine with a trembling touch.

"Akila, we are so glad you are safe," Lori breathes out, her voice laced with relief and something else—fear, maybe. My heart clenches at the raw emotion etched across her face.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her gaze searching mine.

I'm adrift in a sea of uncertainty, waves of confusion crashing over me. "I'm fine. A little confused," I manage to utter, though 'fine' is a galaxy away from the truth.

Lori begins to rise, her protective instincts kicking in. "Do you want anything? I'm sure I can find a nurse."

But I can't bear to see her worry more, not when her shoulders already carry the weight of my world. I reach out, fingers brushing her arm. She hesitates, then sinks back down, her presence a silent comfort. "No, I'm okay," I say, though my shaky voice betrays me.

"Okay," she replies, trying to muster a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Ron shifts behind her, his posture rigid. "You must be very tough to go through everything you did," he says, his tone carrying both awe and sorrow.

"Ron," Lori warns, her sharp glance cutting him off. She turns back to me, her expression softening like wax under a flame. "You went through a lot, and we are not going to talk about it," she says gently, "but there are some police officers standing by that want to ask you some questions."