Laura Gaisie's books on Goodreads
Twelve Mondays Twelve Mondays
reviews: 7
ratings: 9 (avg rating 4.56)

Twelve Hearings Twelve Hearings
reviews: 4
ratings: 4 (avg rating 4.75)


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Twelve Hearings, book 2 excerpt...

Before my eyes can open, I am arrested again, detained by this rigid hospital bed. Straining to listen, I can hear what sounds like aquatic voices somewhere beyond my eclipsed vision. Past being able to hear, there is no other sensation for me. No taste, sight, touch, or smell—it’s just the darkness and my hearing. I try to raise an arm or kick either of my legs, but nothing moves. This is why I’d rather not be here. For me, this body is death. I must get back to the garden. Suniva needs me, and I need her.

Just as I’m about to lose my mind, a peculiar thing happens—I began to levitate. Not my physical body, that one remains immobile, but my soul rises. I am looking down on a woman with a puffy face and swollen shut eyes. There’s an endotracheal tube in her mouth and bandaging about her head. Refusing to believe this woman is me, I look her over for distinguishing marks. Her stomach is flat, mine would be seven months pregnant.

Ah, yes, I remember—the Gentleman said my baby was delivered by cesarean section. This is me, the damage done by my own hands. And the ugly voice that once screamed has been silenced. Scanning the room, I hope for a glimpse of Orion holding our newborn baby. If not my fiancé, someone should be here.

Instead, there are machines, tubes, and other sterile gadgets strategically placed around the bed to sustain my life. In this room, there is a less formidable sized door than the one leading to the Corridor with the golden floor.

I want to see my baby, who is probably in the neonatal intensive care unit. Looking back to the woman lying alone in her hospital bed, I decide to stay. Leaving my body poses many risks. I am her soul, and she is my portal. Without it, how will I find my way back to the garden, and to Suniva? If she were here with me, then I would be free to leave. We could play another game of chase to see who found our baby first.

As I contemplate my next move, a man dressed in dark pants and a white shirt enters my hospital room. Behind him are two others dressed in scrubs. I watch as they approach my body, murmuring words I don’t understand. Then all of a sudden, the hospital bed uncoils its tentacles—it reaches out and pulls me forward. As soon as my soul reenters my body, the bed constricts me into its darkness again.