Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
“Okay. I’ll drive it down to the pier.”
“No. No driving. I told you last time—” Jack bellowed.
But it was too late.
The little girl with hair the colour of sun-streaked chocolate and legs as tanned as mine dashed into the captain’s cabin, snagged a black bag, then hurled herself over the edge of the boat.
My heart seized.
Images of my sister being flung out of my arms and into the sea made me sick.
But then the thud of her feet on wooden planks came and the sight of her sprinting to shore stole all my remaining strength.
The black spots won.
I passed out.
Chapter Four
*
Aslan
*
(Moon in Māori : Marama)
I RAN MY FINGERS OVER MY RIGHT wrist, following the bumps of a fresh cast that imprisoned me. My thumb and most of my palm were free but half my forearm had been encased with stiff plaster.
At least my wrist didn’t scream as much, cocooned in protection and dulled by over-the-counter painkillers.
Continuing my exploration, I raised my hand and stroked the neat row of stitches in my forehead. According to the doctor who’d sewn me up, my skull had been showing, thanks to a nasty thwack and throw by the storm. Seven internal stitches and eleven external ones meant I was no longer bleeding.
Glancing down my body, I narrowed my eyes on my left ankle.
At least they hadn’t bound me in a second cast.
X-rays had shown a fracture—just like my wrist—but they’d opted to strap me into a plastic boot rather than something porous and semi-permanent.
I was grateful for that.
Grateful for the care I’d been given, the kind smiles I’d been offered, and the lack of questions I’d been asked.
I hadn’t passed out again after I’d come to in the back of a rough and rugged four-wheel drive, my head on Neri’s lap. Her fingers had paused their journey through my salt-dry hair the moment my eyes opened and locked onto hers.
I’d frozen.
I’d struggled to breathe.
But then she just ran her fingers over my scalp again, sending a flurry of goosebumps down my arms and inside my heart.
The moment had stretched far longer than it should before the 4WD lurched to a halt, and Neri’s father wrenched open the back door.
He’d helped me hop into the hospital as my vision hovered between opaque and clear, dropping me into a wheelchair as two nurses approached.
I’d looked back as I was wheeled through double doors.
I’d swallowed my fear as the doors closed on the Taylor family and the little girl who watched me so fiercely.
I’d done my best to stay alert for the past few hours, but my concentration was failing now I’d been left alone. The doctors said I had a probable concussion, contusions and bruises on almost every inch of my body, and whispered it was a miracle I’d survived.
They seemed to know about the shipwreck.
They seemed to know how I’d ended up here.
Yet no one asked anything more, focusing on fixing me rather than learning who I was.
Their lack of interest begged me to relax, but each time someone entered the room, I prepared to leap to my feet and run. I had visions of uniformed officers appearing, slapping me in cuffs, and marching me out of the hospital. Nightmares of dragging me past the girl who’d saved my life, all while knowing that the moment they sent me back home, I was a dead man anyway.
But no one came.
No one looked at me as if I didn’t deserve to be there.
No one refused me care.
I sighed, dropping my hand and staring at the ceiling.
Images of my parents crowded in my head.
My mother’s desperation telling us she loved us.
My sister’s scream—
I clenched my jaw and forced myself to think about another girl.
Would I ever see her again or had they gone? They’d done their duty and delivered me to doctors. They had no reason to return.
I hated that beneath my never-ending grief for my family, I had enough sadness to spare at the thought of never seeing them again.
My stomach snarled, interrupting my tired thoughts.
My thirst had been steadily growing more and more excruciating the longer I’d been tended to. Despite the doctor’s wonderful care on patching up my obvious injuries, no one had stopped to think how dry and desiccated I was after drinking an entire ocean of salt.
My eyes fell on the basin in the far corner of the ward where I’d been placed. Other beds were occupied, kept private with curtains with flowers and stars printed on them. I was closest to the wall. Nearest the window.
At least there was a way out.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my battered body to move.
First, I would drink. Then I would see about stealing some clothes to replace the open-backed gown I’d been dressed in.
And then...I was leaving.
Grabbing hold of the safety rung around the bed, I gingerly lowered my legs to the floor. I didn’t leap down. I took my time, easing myself to standing while the world threatened to turn black on me again and my throat closed around fresh nausea.