There’s something in my throat. I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel like they’ve been glued shut. I make the effort again and I’m able to lift them slightly before they fall closed. What the fuck is wrong with me? My limbs are heavy, my body is sore, but nothing compares to the dull ache in my head. I open my eyes once more and blink repeatedly until I can see. I look at my surroundings and try to bring them into focus; it’s painful. I scan my eyes to the right, taking in the metal bed rail and the machines with flashing lights and beeping sounds. I’m in the hospital. When my gaze moves to the left, it stops on the live angel who’s sleeping in the recliner beside my bed. My eyes take her in. From the top of her tousled, golden blonde hair, over the smooth curve of her brow, to the thick, dark eyelashes fanned out over the top of her cheeks. She peacefully slumbers, unaware of my slow study of her tempting form.
