I belong nowhere. Even the most abandon child knows when he is from.
I belong to no time.
There is no other bed in the white hospital room, so I sit in my seat, hands behind my head and stare at the lights that seem too tiny to produce enough light. 2100. A pretty good century when it came to tech.
The beep from the monitors is not thethmic. I close my eyes. James' heart is still struggling to keep up after. Maybe his body is rejecting his new liver.
I sit forward, eyes now on the floor, and shake my head. Wrong century. They don't have organ rejections anymore. I should really carry a journal. Oh, how the trolling Internet would love it if they found my journal.
I must have drozed off. I'm startled by the door opening. My head snaps up when a nurse enters the room. I hold still. I'm not sure if the Time Sojourner effort works on me or not. Maybe most adult ignore a grey-clad teen. Instead, she closes the door and jams a chair against the door.
I groan. Not another one.