The Girl Who Wasn't (18 page)

“
Raven, how are you
feeling?” he asks, peering down at me with an expression devoid of
concern.

“
I’ve advised her not to
speak until I can evaluate any possible damage to her throat,”
Josephine says.

Titus waves a hand at her response,
never even looking at her. “Raven?” he repeats. “How are you
feeling?”

I lick my lips and open my mouth. The
croak that comes out is nothing like my voice but it is sound
nonetheless. “It hurts.”

He nods, as if that’s the only obvious
answer. “Josephine will give you another injection to help you
sleep. You did well tonight. Rest and we will speak more tomorrow.
There’s a party in the evening I want you to be prepared
for.”

“
A party?” My croak is
louder this time.

“
Sir, tomorrow?” Linc says
from his place near the door.

Titus ignores both of us and smiles his
crooked smile. “As I said, we’ll talk in the morning. Get some
rest.”

I am too disgusted to argue with him.
He nods at Josephine before closing the door behind him. It isn’t
until after he’s gone that I realize I still haven’t told anyone
what the redhead said to me about my secret. But right this moment,
I don’t want to. The only one I trust to save me is Linc. He’s also
the one person I can’t afford to tell the truth.

Josephine is the first to speak,
muttering incoherently under her breath. It is another break in her
otherwise patient exterior, and I wonder just what she thinks of
Titus Rogen. Linc’s thoughts are more obvious. His hands are fisted
at his sides and he stares at a spot on the wall only he can see.
Josephine has to shake him to get his attention. Even then, he
flinches as if he might strike out at her. She shrinks back and his
shoulders relax.

“
Sorry,” he tells
her.

“
No harm, no foul,” she says
as she crosses to the bedside. She props her bag on the blankets
beside me and begins searching through it with both hands. “Linc,
I’m going to need your help, if you don’t mind.”

“
What do you need me to do?”
he asks, coming around to my other side. His gaze flickers to my
neck and the ink there. I look away.

Josephine hands him several packets of
plastic, completely oblivious. “Unwrap these and lay them here. I
want to take some swabs for testing,” she says.

My mouth, nose, and ears are swabbed
with cotton that she places inside twist-top canisters. My vitals
are taken. Twice. Then she peels the blanket away and directs Linc
to adjust two different lamps to improve the lighting around
me.

I lie very still while her fingertips
trail lightly over my chest and neck.

“
I’m going to apply a cream
to some of these bruises,” she says to me. “It’s going to
hurt.”

“
Okay,” I
whisper.

“
I can give you another
injection to help you sleep, but it would be more effective if you
can wait until I’m done with the cream. Can you do
that?”

“
I’ll try.” My voice is
barely above a whisper but Josephine nods in understanding. She
reaches into her bag and begins pulling out supplies.

On my other side, a hand slips into
mine. I look over at Linc, then down at our joined hands. His
fingertips rest lightly against my palm, his hand weightless
against me. He is afraid to hurt me. I curl my fingers around his
and squeeze. He squeezes back and smiles, but it’s
pained.

Josephine wasn’t lying about the cream.
It hurts. The moment her hand touches my skin, the burning erupts.
I shift and squirm, biting my cheek to remain still and not make it
worse.

Her touch is feather-light against my
skin and still it leaves a trail of fire behind. I have yet to see
the damage for myself but I know it cannot be pretty if the pain
returns so readily.

“
How are you doing?” she
asks, still intent on what she’s doing below my
collarbone.

“
Fine,” I lie.

I tighten my grip on Linc’s
hand.

“
It’s over,” she says
finally.

My cheeks are stained with moisture.
Linc is watching me. His relief matches mine.

Josephine forces a smile. “You did very
well,” she says. “And that cream will help. By morning, it won’t
feel as raw.” She frowns. “Nothing I can do about the bruising,”
she adds.

“
It’s going to be bad,” Linc
agrees, his voice a growl. “How can he expect her to go out
tomorrow night?”

I don’t hear Josephine’s response. The
pain is building again, leaving behind a roaring in my ears. I
don’t realize I’ve made a sound until their conversation cuts off
and they glance at me. Josephine scoots closer, a syringe already
in her hand.

“
I’m going to give you that
second injection now,” she says.

I nod, which I hope she takes as a
signal to hurry. I squeeze my hands together as the medicine is
forced into my vein and like before, I count to ten. A soft sigh
escapes my lips as the pain recedes. My eyelids become heavy with
the weight of the medicine and I let them close, enjoying the
sensation of floating for as long as it will have me.

The mattress shifts as Josephine rises.
I listen as she moves about, straightening up and gathering her
things. A moment later, I feel a strand of hair brush along my
shoulder as she bends over me. “Get some rest,” she says. “I’ll be
back in the morning to check on you.”

I give a small nod, not wanting to
spoil the relief I feel by talking or moving more than I have
to.

“
You were very brave
tonight,” she adds.

Then she is gone.

Linc is beside me, his hand still in
mine. I don’t want him to go. The idea of him leaving makes me
afraid for the first time since I was dragged into the
alleyway.

“
Don’t go,” I
whisper.

I open my eyes just as he raises his to
my face. I know he was staring at my chest again. I’m sure there’s
an irony there but I can’t bring myself to joke with him right now.
The idea of laughing hurts.

“
I won’t,” he
promises.

The drugs make my limbs heavy, my
thoughts thick. I have trouble keeping my lids open and after a few
moments, I let them close and just lie there, half awake, half
falling off the edge. Oblivion sounds good.

When the mattress shifts and Linc’s
hand slides free of mine, I bolt upright—and immediately regret it.
I cry out and he is there immediately, guiding me back with gentle
hands. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” he says. He sits next
to me, shoulder to shoulder, and slides his hand back into mine.
Even with the blanket and a few inches of space between us, my
nerve endings hum at his closeness. Or maybe it’s the
medicine.

I begin to relax again.

“
I recognized her,” I
whisper after a moment.

“
Who?”

“
The girl who attacked me
tonight. I’ve seen her before.”

He stills beside me but don’t look,
unsure how far I want to take it. How much can I tell
him?

“
Where?”

“
That first party I went to,
with Taylor, when you saved me on the rooftop. She was there in the
lobby when I arrived. Gus saw her too.”

“
Gus saw her?” he repeats. I
can tell this is new information to him.

“
Yes. And there was a boy
with her. I don’t remember him as well. He stayed farther
back.”

Linc is quiet for a long time. I wonder
what it means if Gus hasn’t said anything about that night. “What
did she want?” he asks finally.

“
She asked for my autograph.
She took my picture.”

There is an odd note to his voice when
he asks, “Did you give it to her?”

“
Yes.” I try to shrug but it
hurts and the motion is jerky and awkward. “She seemed so
…”

“
Harmless?”

“
Yes.”

“
I think that’s the
point.”

There’s something in his voice.
Hesitancy, though I can’t understand why. I recognize it because I
have the same feeling. I don’t tell him what she said to me about
my secret. Instead I say, “She got away tonight.”

It’s not a question but he answers
anyway. “Yes.”

“
Who is she,
Linc?”

He doesn’t respond and I wonder if he
knows more about this girl than he’s let on. There is something he
doesn’t want to say. “Where did you get that tattoo,
Raven?”

The change of subject is unexpected. I
know the tattoo he means. My brain is foggy from the drugs and I
can’t remember which lie I should tell. “I’ve had it since the
beginning,” I mumble.

“
The beginning of
what?”

“
Of me.”

“
So, you’ve had it since you
were born? You were given a tattoo as a baby?”

“
No. I … not a baby.” An
alarm bell sounds in the back of my mind. I am dangerously close to
a line that, once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

Linc knows it, and he presses. “What
does it mean?”

I decide to tell as much of the truth
as I can and hope it satisfies. I am too muddled, too exhausted to
lie. “The tree represents life.”

“
And the numbers along the
branches?”

I curse inwardly. He’s seen more of it
than I thought. But I cannot tell him about the numbers. “Linc, I’m
tired.”

“
You’re not a very good
liar, Raven.” He isn’t angry, only resigned. We both know the truth
will come—eventually. Only, not tonight. Not like this.

I sigh and lean my head on his
shoulder. “I know.”

Chapter Ten

I wake sore and exhausted despite the
hours of rest. My bed feels like rocks underneath my skin. Sunlight
streams through the curtain. I’m still not sure what woke me,
though I have a vague notion of some noise grabbing my attention
from the subconscious. I shift from my side to my back to escape
the glaring light and wince as my tender shoulder is pressed
against the mattress. Last night’s attempt on my life has put all
of the others to shame.

I am not even fully awake
before the redhead’s words replay in my mind.
I know your secret.

Everything has changed. It’s no longer
her I am protecting through my silence. It is myself. They want me.
Not Authentic Raven but Imitation Ven.

When I remember the redhead and the way
her fists felt, I swallow a sob, unsure whether the faceless
security guard stationed outside my door will hear me if I let it
loose.

A noise sounds from the floor at the
foot of my bed. Every muscle in my body stiffens. I wince and then
very slowly push back the covers and crawl toward the foot of the
mattress.

I peer over the edge and find a wad of
blankets that rise and fall rhythmically. They rustle again as
whatever is wrapped inside rolls sideways. The corner falls away
and I see his face.

It is Linc.

He is sleeping in my room.

My initial elation is stamped out by
horror. I look to the walls, the dresser, the knickknacks where I
have always suspected cameras hide. They cannot see him here. Titus
would …

I cannot finish the thought.

I jump up. Every muscle and nerve
ending in me screams in protest as I run over and crouch in front
of the pile of blankets that is Linc.

“
Linc, wake up,” I hiss. My
throat is scratchy but my voice is intact.

I shake him and he stirs. “Hmm? What
…?” His eyelids are sleepy, his words lazy.

I shake him again. “You can’t be in
here. They will see,” I say. I am pleading now.

I cannot imagine a scenario where Linc
is discovered in my room and gets to live through it. Whether I
knew he was here or not will not matter to Titus.

“
What time is it?” He looks
down at his watch, fully awake now. “Shit!”

He jumps to his feet and looks around
wildly, as if he can’t remember where the exit is. Then he focuses
on me again. He casts a quick look over his shoulder—at what, I
don’t see—and takes my arms with his hands. His grip is light as he
backs me into the corner between the dresser and the chair. The
walking is what makes me wince, the creaking of muscle on bone. He
frowns as he takes in my expression. My shoulders bump the wall and
he drops his hands, letting them slide lightly down my arms before
lingering on my wrists.

“
How bad is it?” he asks,
his voice low.

“
It’s … not good,” I
say.

His expression twists into something so
fierce it makes me want to weep. For him. For myself. For how much
I hate Titus Rogen.

“
Linc, you can’t be in here.
If they find you …”

“
I know. I just—I was
worried and you were in so much pain after the injection wore
off.”

“
Can you call Josephine back
so I can have another shot?”