I'm not sure how I wake up but it's either a snore caught in my throat or the sounds outside the room. When I finally open my eyes, I am transported to the time I had my wisdom teeth taken out. The same dull buzzing in my head and shrouded sight. I haven't seen a dentist in over eight years now which could be a good thing just as much as it could be bad. My mom was always scared of dentists too. At her age, she's got more crowns than real teeth. I glide my tongue over my teeth and then my dried prune feeling lips.

And then I notice the white mass around my left leg. It's tight and I can't wiggle my toes- not that I can see them from this angle either. I try to move them but there's just no feeling.

I am drowsy, eyelids dragging themselves up and down as I survey the room. Through a clasp on my finger, I am hooked to a monitoring machine that shows my steady heart beat and blood pressure. 

I half remember what happened to me. I remember seeing Stewart and running out of the house into a night much darker in my memory than it was in real life. The machine catches on to the small spike in my body as I recall the feeling of the car reversing into me. Even on the ground, I remember thinking it wasn't actually happening. That it had all been a dream. Cars don't drive into people, especially not into me. 

Running my palm across the sheet covering my lap, it's clear it did happen to me. I wonder why it's so hard to believe then. When my mom had her first heart attack, close to the time of the divorce, she didn't believe it happened to her either. Even in the hospital, a room similar to the one I'm in, wasn't enough to settle her doubts.

She'd call it faint. It was common in her family to faint. Her mom used to faint a lot when she was a child. She witnessed her fall over in the kitchen so many times as a youngling. It had to be hereditary because her older sister had a series of fainting spells much later in her life too. I wasn't around to see it but whatever mom had, was far from what they'd experienced.

So when it happened the second time, for me to witness too, I guess she didn't have any other option than to believe it. 

I don't know why all of this is coming back to me right now. My association with hospitals begins and ends with my mom. So is it that strange that I return to the thought of her, now that I'm the one in the sheets.

For the longest time, I stare blankly around the room until I find a button near my pillow. It's hidden well enough, I wonder if they don't want us bothering them. I press it twice. The second time just in case the first didn't go through.

A few minutes later, a nurse, tall and broad shouldered walks in. Omar is behind her too. It's a relief to see he's still alive. He looks pale and the top of his forehead and head glisten with sweat. He looks unwell. Maybe it's the lights.

"How are you feeling, Liberty? I'm Paul."

"I'm fine," my voice cracks a little.

"You got into a nasty accident," Paul says and I drag my eyes away from Omar who looks pretty grim himself.

"We had to put your leg into a cast to heal the fracture."

"What?" I mumble.

"It's going to take a while to heal, I'm sorry. You won't be able to use it much before, well, y'know," he shrugs.

I glance at Omar to check his reaction.

"Before what?"

"Your date," Paul says, easily. "We found you on the system when you came in, of course. It's standard procedure to check these things."

The hospital knows about me. That I got stag mail. 

"How do you check? Is it public record?" I try to sit up but give up when I can't pull my own weight.

"You must know," he looks between us. "Hospitals and banks do check these things."

"Who else does that?" Omar interrupts.

Paul scratches his elbow, looking a little uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure but we're mandated to check the records ourselves. Are you also a recipient?"

Omar shifts his weight to his other leg, a hesitant silence surrounding the room.

"Anyway, if you are, you'd know you have to update your land lord and employers. It's all on their website really."

"Thank you," I say before Omar can reply. "Is there anything else?"

The guy Paul presses his lips together, his eyes soft and empathetic. "Sorry off-topic. You're free to leave but we still need you to fill out some paperwork."

He holds out a clipboard and form which I take from him. Insurance, right. I forgot that was still a thing. Paul leaves the room, excusing himself while I complete the form. Omar walks to the side of the bed so that he can see the form too.

"Should I get your insurance card?" he asks. "Is it in your wallet?"

"No," I tell him without looking up from the form. "Uh- I don't have insurance. So I guess they'll be mailing the bill home."

"Oh," he says abruptly. The same way you'd respond to someone confessing they are terminally ill. Or that they live on the streets. We all know what having no insurance looks like when you finally make it inside a hospital or clinic.

The bill won't be pretty.

I fill what I can and Paul returns later to take the form. He looks at me once when he realizes there's no insurance. After that, Omar takes over and helps me out of the hospital. Paul lets me know I can come back to have the cast checked in a few weeks and if they need to change anything. I nod. Both of us know I won't be coming back.

"Fuck," I let the word shoot out of me like a rocket once we reach the parking lot. 

"How much pain are you in?"

"Not much," I shake my head. "God knows what medications they pumped into me."

"I'm sorry about your leg."

"I'm surprised the other one survived," I say, truthfully. "What even was that?"

"The woman who tried locking me up there with Stewart," Omar begins. "She set the place on fire."

"What? You're kidding."

"The fire brigade came right after the ambulance showed up for you."

"Shit, who was that lady?"

"His wife."

"Whose wife," I ask even though I think I know who he means.

"Stewart's."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he replies. "It was definitely her alright."

"Shit."

"I haven't heard from the cops or anyone. I keep checking online too. But nobody's mentioned finding Stewart yet."

"Wouldn't he have just been burnt?" I wince, trying not to picture it.

"I think they got there in time. They have to find something."

"Shit, Omar," I sigh. 

"I know."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Stewart survived somehow," he reminds me of the fact. "So we do the same thing."

"Like that's even possible."

"After what I've witnessed today, I know there's nothing natural about these deaths. So I'm going to cut all the variables."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"First thing's first, I'm not going home."

I pull a face to which he starts to explain.

"I'm not going home because that's where everyone will expect me to be. And I'm not staying here in Baltimore either because everyone probably knows that too."

"Everyone?"

"You know, the lady and whoever was driving her getaway car. They must know who we are or at least trying to.

I think I need to go home, my family's home- where my mom lives. Not because I want to but since I don't trust any hotel or place checking me in for my last couple of days. I need someone looking out for me and I don't know anyone else but my mom."

I nod. I get what he means. I get it a lot but I can't go home to my mom because I'm a wanted criminal back in Atlanta. I stabbed a rich white boy who survived. This part of my journey will not blow over well for me. No matter how much I want to crawl into my own bed and smell Sadie all over the house one last time. This now looks like a dream fleeting at an alarming rate into an unreachable future, pressed between the hum of a sunset. I don't know if I am making it out of this alive the way Omar might.

"Come with me," he says, warmly. "Nobody would mind you being there."

I look at him. Like really look at him. The strange boy who pissed me off more times than I could count yet the same guy whose on my sinking boat. When he offers a hand, out of the boat collecting water, I desperately want to take it.

"That could put you into more danger, you know."

"Not any more than I already am."

"And your mom?

"What about her?"

"Is it safe for her?"

He pauses. "I don't know but there isn't a better place for us to go."