CHAPTER THREE
TRAVIS
The constant beep pulls me back to a harsh reality with whitewashed walls and numbing pain that coats my body from head to toe. I force my eyes open, and it’s hard to pinpoint what hurts the most. My throat is painfully dry, and the thick fog my head is swimming in makes it hard to focus in the bland room. I glance down at the countless tubes attached to my arm and broken memories cut through the confusion like shards of glass I can’t piece together.
The rhythmic tone of the machine I’m attached to and the low sound of the television pull my limited attention to the corner of the room. I can’t make out the words, and it takes everything I have just to turn my head toward the noise. Once I’m able to focus, I hear rustling and watch as Drew sits up from the chair. He
