He lay flat on his back, and a piercing ringing in his ears made him want to bury his head under a pillow. A large, soft, and fluffy pillow. Not this hard—whatever it was—under his head. Chad was fairly certain he was not at home in bed. He dragged his eyelids open again and fought against the nausea. When the fogginess began to clear, he found himself looking into a pair of deep chocolate brown eyes just below a furrowed brow.
“He’s awake,” the owner of the brown eyes screeched as he waved around his arms like one of those puppets with the pull-strings. Chad worried Puppet-Guy would hit him with one of his fly-away arms, butwhen he tried to move, a tremendous pain stabbed through his own arm and he groaned.
“Don’t move,” Puppet-Guy advised, leaning in close to peer into his eyes.