I had even called the small private hospitals and the ones in Brisbane and Tweed. None of them had me in their systems. Lifting the gauze, I poked and prodded the scar just to make sure it was really there and not someone’s idea of a sick joke. The scar wouldn’t budge, and the stitches lifted my skin when I pulled at them, which ruled out the fake theory. I did a search for “recovery time for gunshot wounds.” The information I found didn’t make me feel any better. According to the first five pages of search results, I should have been in hospital for weeks. On a whim, I Googled “black-eyed people inhaling people” and ended up freaking the crap out of myself. I so wasn’t one of them, and I was pretty sure Jett wasn’t either because they apparently had to be invited into your house, and I certainly hadn’t invited Jett into mine. Jett still wasn’t back, and Jenna was still downstairs.
What do You think about Paradox (Unearthly Paradox)?
