SERENA
M
y brain feels as if it’s been run through a blender. Scratch that, I feel like my whole body has been run through a blender. I don’t know what is up or down. All I know is every time I lift my head, the entire room spins. Trying to sort through my memories of
the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure what is real or made up.
What is wrong with me?
I remember Dante holding me in his arms, throwing up on him, him giving me a bath, and the doctor coming. Not all of that had been a dream, had it? Dante holding me against his chest seems like it would be a made-up thought, but I can still feel his arms wrapped around me, holding me securely against his chest. The whole bath thing was probably a dream too.
Blinking my eyes open, I slowly focus on the nightstand, the lamp, the mattr
