CHAPTER 3

Amanda

Witnesses claimed to have previously seen the red Porsche. What else would she be doing there if she weren't usually in his lap while they were having sex?

My eyelids are moving.

"You'd think the guy would remember to at least put the cruise control on or, you know, wait until he had her in a bed," the woman said.

The sole reaction is a male snort.

The hotdog and onion fragrance that comes with movement that is drifting towards me is potent enough to indicate that the individual had eaten recently. Perhaps he simply couldn't wait. My face is swept by a look. I want to turn away because it is so sharply piercing. I can't say that I blame him. I would fuck a girl like that six ways from Sunday if I had one.

An amused voice remarks, "That's hardly the professionalism I'd expect from a cop."

As if I didn't see you ogling her tits when she was out cold, I said, "She's out cold. What the hell were you taught at the Academy?

Bradley, get out of here.

I was so closely snuggled in this bed that I was unable to move, even though I wanted to. I want to, too.

Bitter antiseptic, rough soap, and that strange smell that lets me know I'm at a hospital aren't even close to being able to stop the illness from churning inside of me.

Unhurried and purposeful footsteps are coming from a distance towards my chamber. A door creaks open, letting a refreshing breeze through. "Officers? Is there anything I can do to be of assistance? I'm the attending physician today, Dr. Simon Trevor.

I finally start to unwind as soon as the smell of grilled meat and onions recedes from my vicinity. Just came over to talk to her.

There hasn't changed since the last time, the new voice observes. Do you need anything else from me?

These men don't appeal to this doctor. He might have overheard what they said or he might simply dislike police officers in general. I don't like the police either after what I just overheard and from how little I've observed of them in the past.

Any idea when that could occur? The person who has an onion odour inquires. Or was it the person gazing intently at my tits?

The doctor replies in the same casual voice, "It could be tomorrow, it could be a week."

We require a name. We need to find out how a man came to be deceased.

Felix.

A loud beeping machine silences all sounds as my heart rate rises. Steps come and stop at my right side. A person stands over me. Because neither the smell of food nor the scent of male sweat threatens to choke me, it isn't either of the officers. Just a woodsy scent that is too faint to distinguish. not very strong. Nice.

One of the officers asks, sounding as if he's approaching, "Is she waking up?"

The doctor says distractedly, "There's no sign that she is."

How is he acting? interpreting the device? What?

"But the apparatus. It—"

"Can frequently be brought on by mysterious brain activity. Patients who have been in long-term comas exhibit the same symptoms. Despite the alarm from the equipment, the patient continues to sleep.

My right eye's lid is peeled open by a chilly finger, revealing a man in a white coat who is wearing a black stethoscope around his neck. I look up at him. pale skin, small brown eyes, and dark red hair. younger than I anticipated. He must be in his early or late twenties. I just notice that before the same finger pulls my eyelid shut once more.

As I anticipated, she is not yet awake.

His lies.

I feel sufficiently aware and lucid to know it was obvious just one glance in my eye. Furthermore, he didn't use the kind of blinding light that doctors frequently use. He didn't do anything that I would have expected a doctor to perform, like take my pulse.

I'm awake, but he doesn't want the police to know.

Yet why?

"I need to finish my rounds now. Did you need me to point out the exit for you? The doctor's voice is polite, even warm, but I can tell he's not being sincere.

"Not needed." Because he is aware that he is also not desired, the officer's voice is less pleasant. We can locate it. We'll return.

There are three sets of footsteps that move in and out of the door. When they finally leave with a faint click, I am free to think about something I was before unable to do.

I am still here.

I'm still here, while Felix is dead.

Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

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