***
She was going to vomit.
The memories assaulted her. One after the other, moving so quickly through her mind she could barely keep up. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs, the nausea bubbled as she recalled Alana on her knees, begging for her life. The images of mothers trying to shield their children. The small, dead bodies strewn about. Cries of terror and screams of disbelief and horror filled her mind.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
“Jenna, it’s okay. It’s Lacey. You’re here with me.”
No, no. She couldn’t stand it. The memory of the beating she’d suffered made her catch her breath. She whimpered. She could feel each hit of his fist against her body as though it was happening to her right now.
Fear. Panic. I’m going to die.
“Jenna, you’re safe. You’re safe in Dallas. In my office at Black-Gray. You’re safe.”
You’re safe, little bit.
Curt. She remembered. He’d come for her. He’d carried her on his back, brought her Sergeant Teddy, told her off for pretending to eat that horrid protein bar. She heard him telling her he’d always come for her.
I need him now.
“Jenna, open your eyes and look at me.”
Lacey’s calm voice broke through the memory, and she gasped, opening her eyes. She blinked, staring up at a pale Lacey.
“Jenna—”
“I’m going to be sick.” Jenna rolled off the sofa she’d been lying on and stumbled, falling to her knees. She felt so weak and disorientated.
She still hadn’t regained all her strength after being kidnapped. The doctor had told her she needed to eat better, develop an exercise routine . . . blah, blah, blah. She knew all that. Everyone seemed to forget she was a doctor. They treated her like she was ill.
And right now, it felt like they were right.
Nausea bubbled in her stomach as Lacey slipped her arm around Jenna’s waist and half-dragged her to the bathroom. She bent over the toilet and vomited.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
“I’ll get you some water,” Lacey said.
Jenna whimpered as her stomach clenched and she threw up again. When she thought she had herself more under control, she reached up with a shaking hand to flush the toilet then sat back, leaning against the wall of the small bathroom attached to Lacey’s office.
Lacey entered and handed her a cold bottle of water. “Here, drink this.” Then she turned towards the bathroom cabinet. “I’ll get you a toothbrush and toothpaste.”
“Get a lot of vomiters, do you?” Jenna tried to joke.
Lacey just sent her a small smile. “Do you want me to call someone for you? Perhaps your mom could come and get you?”
“God, no.” Jenna shook her head then regretted the action as the room spun sickeningly. “That’s the last thing I need.”
Lacey frowned slightly. “We just had an intense session, Jenna. You’re going to need support.”
“I have a driver, he’ll get me safely home.” Not that she’d call Hans a source of support by any stretch. Hans was even more cut off emotionally than Curt was.
Curt. When was the last time she’d spoken to him? He hadn’t visited her again, hadn’t texted her in weeks. And yet she couldn’t help but want him, miss him.
I will always come for you.
“I wasn’t talking about just getting home. Although I’m glad to know you won’t be driving after this.”