He knew he was in a hospital, and he had the spooky feeling that maybe his eyes had been sewn shut. A doctor could sew your eyes closed if he took a notion. He could sew your eyes closed to punish you, and Buddy reckoned he was going to be punished six ways from Sunday. Buddy moved his head back and forth. His neck hurt— he hurt all over the place, not even to mention the shoulder he was shot in, but right now the eye situation bothered him the worst. He was trembling on the verge of a yell by the time he screwed his face up and one of his eyes finally popped open. The other eye was crusted shut. Buddy must have done some crying in the night. He thought he probably had. With both eyes open at last, he studied his hospital room. It was too damn bright. Light bounced off the white walls and shone from a neon coil in the ceiling. Buddy let his gaze drift toward the door, where a burly young man in a County Sheriff’s Department uniform was sitting in a chair reading a Reader’s Digest.
What do You think about Michaela Thompson - Florida Panhandle 02 - Riptide?
