I can’t have been out long because the rattling air conditioner hasn’t had time to take the warmth from the room. My leg throbs. ‘You scream like a girl.’ Rafa sits on the bed next to me. ‘I am a girl.’ He glances down at my bare legs. ‘I’ve noticed.’ I struggle to sit up. All I’m wearing is a t-shirt, my underwear and a bandage around my thigh. My legs are still scarred from the accident—or whatever happened last year. White, ugly marks across my thighs and knees. I’d cover myself up, but with what? My jeans are on the floor, torn up. Rafa gestures to my leg. ‘Better?’ I tentatively probe the bandage, nod. I still ache all over from the aftermath of adrenaline. ‘How come Ez pulled out the knife before we shifted?’ ‘You can’t heal with a blade in the wound.’ Oh. Yeah. ‘Where is she now?’ ‘Mya’s doing a post-mortem.’ I look around for water, find a bottle by the bed. It’s warm, but I don’t care. ‘We need to make sure Mya gives us that laptop before she disappears from here,’ I say.
