I walked back toward the bedroom, my footsteps feeling strangely light, as if the floor had been replaced with thick, plush clouds. Jason was right—the medicine was working. The angry, jagged throbbing in my wrist that had been my constant companion since the fall was suddenly... gone. In its place was a dull, humming warmth that made me feel like I was wrapped in wool.
I sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the phone Jason had left for me. My fingers felt clumsy, thick and unresponsive.
555... 0... What was the rest? I knew it. I had burned it into my brain, repeated it a thousand times like a prayer. 555-0198. Or was it 555-0189?
"Eight... nine... nine... eight..." I whispered to the empty room. My voice sounded far away, like I was speaking through a long tube. I looked at the di
