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Dahlia

The throbbing in my head is only outmatched by the aching of my body when I open my eyes. There’s a bit of light shining through a partially closed curtain, and it illuminates the unfamiliar surroundings. But thanks to the fact that I’m not wearing my glasses, I can’t see much but blurry figures.

“Ryker?” I whisper loudly, feeling on the table beside me for my glasses.

Wasn’t he with me?

Where is he?

And then it all comes flooding back.

The accident.

The pole in his abdomen.

I gasp and cover my mouth with a shaking hand as tears fill my eyes. They took me. That I remember clearly now.

Even as my body screams for relief, I throw the covers off me and swing my legs over the edge. The carpet is plush beneath my bare feet, but the first step drops me to my knees when my ankle gives way beneath me.

I fall to the ground, stifling a cry just in case anyone is outside the door listening.

Please, God, let him be alive. He was in bad shape when I saw him in that car. The location of that pole—the depth. It’ll be a miracle if he survives.

Narrowing my gaze and trying my best to make out the shapes around me, I pull myself up onto the bed, then favor my ankle and limp toward the door. Being as cautious as I can, I try to turn the knob, only to discover it’s locked. A potent mix of adrenaline and fear surges through my system, but I try to shove it aside and focus only on reacting.

This is another trial.

I will be fine because You are with me.

Please, Lord, help me through this. Please let Ryker and Presley be okay. In the mighty name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.

After taking another deep breath to steady myself, I turn back toward the room. I can’t see anything. How am I going to survive this? How can I make it? Lord, I need a miracle. Please. Ryker and I both need one. Help me, Lord. Please don’t let me die here.

Blinking rapidly, I stumble back over toward the bed and feel around on the nightstand. When there’s nothing there, I move both hands to the bed and frantically search the covers. Finally, my hand closes on a familiar wire frame.

Yes! Thank You, Lord!

I slide the glasses onto my face and study the room.

The queen-sized bed I’m leaning on is flanked by two nightstands with nothing on top. No books and no lamps I can use as weapons. There is only one other door, so I stumble over toward it and peer inside, noting that even the shower curtain has been removed.

Where am I?

I limp over toward the window and peer outside. I’m on the second floor, and there are expansive gardens just below my window. The Prescott estate. The fountain in the center was in one of the pictures Ryker was looking at.

Dread coils in my belly, and I force myself to stop and close my eyes before I can panic.

God has me.

He has Ryker.

He is in control.

He can rescue me.

And even if He doesn’t, I know that He is still good, and I will be resting in the arms of Jesus.

Lord, please grant me strength.