The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery
Margo
Something cool touches my cheek.
I pull away, and my entire body bursts into flames.
Pain, not flames.
My face is hot.
“Come on, Margo, I know you’re back.”
Back? Back where?
“Wake up, Margo.”
Am I sleeping?
I can’t open my eyes. I can’t move. It’s just pain everywhere, little rockets sizzling under my skin and across my brain. The headache is extreme.
Where am I?
Another cool thing on my cheek.
“Jesus, did you try to kill her?” A new voice. Lighter.
Someone I know? Their name is on the tip of my tongue.
“I couldn’t really control it once I hit them,” the first one says.
“She’s bleeding.” A sigh. Someone moves my head. A groan fills the air.
My heartbeat echoes in my ears, drowning out the voice for a moment.
“…hospital. You don’t have a choice.”
Maybe I’m dead.
“Up you go, Margo.”
I’m lifted, swung into arms. My head falls back.
My eyes open in slits. It’s blinding.
Old slatted wood. Sunlight peeking through. Cold air. A high ceiling, rafters with cobwebs and hay.
I can’t be dead.
“You aren’t dead. You’re not going to die. That’s not the plan.”
Someone has a plan? I used to be a planner. I thought I knew what was going to happen to me. I thought I could control it. And then…
“Don’t fucking talk to her.”
“I’m sorry,” the first voice says. “God, I’m sorry.”
Something covers my nose and mouth. A cloth. The fabric is soft, but my body bucks against it. My lungs burn. I wrap my hand around the person’s wrist and hold on for dear life.
But wait. I think…
I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.
I snap my eyes fully open, locking them onto the face of the person carrying me.
It’s too late to do anything else. I gasp, inhale the chemicals.
Hands reach up out of the darkness, dragging me back down.
I go. Anywhere is better than here.
