The One Who Named Me

Zoe opened her eyes with a gasp.

She was in a room she didn't recognize. Her face was burning and tight, and it seemed one of her eyes was swollen almost completely shut. And she felt it… she felt pain. There was pain registering in the awakened cells of her body like little explosions of sensation.

And she had slept. She had dreamed!

Lucas turned from where he was staring out the window watching the sun rise on this Samhain and saw her chest heaving and eyes darting around like she was remembering something.

"Zoe," he called to her, and she jolted in surprise, having not sensed him in the room.

Slowly she pushed herself up in bed, eyes watering as the stitches pulled. Then she noticed a discomfort in her wrist, and she raised it in front of her good eye to examine it.

"Are you okay?" Lucas approached the bed, studying her reactions.

"M-my…" she gulped, her non-swollen eye widening in horror at the catheter taped to her wrist. "My… my wrist," her mouth hung open looking at it.