“I wouldn’t go that far, but at least she’s not burning up anymore.” I watch her bite her lower lip, worry all over her face, hergaze wandering over Nikita’s shivering frame. “What was her physical shape before this?”
“Not that skinny,” I tell her. “She’s been fit forever.”
“She’ll need help walking at first,” Mia says, hands deftly moving from Nikita’s biceps to her calves, assessing the damage.“There’s still something, but chances are, she’s eaten away at it. There are all textbook signs of starvation and immobility. Wesee this in coma patients, but—”
“Not exclusively,” she amends. “But yes. Patients who spend a lot of time bedridden, being fed through an IV. Look.” Sheshows me the inside of Nikita’s left arm. “See the holes? Either she’s been using like crazy—”
