Despite the sedative mist flowing, I can feel an edge creeping in that I shouldn’t have. A better sense of awareness that allows me to fight through the haze. My stomach doesn’t claw at itself, my muscles and bones aren’t pulsating with the pain that has haunted me every waking second since being dragged to this prison. Even dulled by sedation, my senses reach further than they have before: the scrape of boots echoes sharper, the air tastes more metallic, and the feeling in my extremities is coming back.
I blink rapidly again, desperately digging through my mind for the memories.
It comes rushing back as my eyes open to track the mist pumping through the vents above me.
The brothers were arguing over the night shift guards not feeding me as my tears mixed with the blood bags I held onto tightly like an animal dying of thirst.
My brow knits together as my pulse echoes loudly in my ears.
None of it makes sense, though, despite those fragments falling into place.
My body sings with the feeling of my thirst being satiated for the first time since being here. Enough to make me feel the faint hum of strength I don’t think they want me to have.
Terrance wants to break me down, and I hate how good of a job he’s done.
But what I hate more than that is the gratitude I feel for Callum giving me those bags.
I hate that I feel better because of him. How could he just stand there as his uncle dissected me, watching complicitly, and then care if I’m hungry?
A groan slips from my lips.
None of this makes sense.
The hiss of metal cuts through the haze, low and grinding as the walls lift. My pulse trips even before I understand why, sluggish but insistent. My eyes squeeze shut as I prepare to see the lights before Terrance’s hands break me open.
A whimper rattles in my throat, too quiet to matter, but it claws its way out anyway.
No, not again. Don’t take me.
The thought skids jagged through my mind, unraveling into a hundred broken pieces. Every memory of being in that room compiles all at once.
The restraints cutting into my wrists when I tried to break free.
The sting of steel splitting skin while his laughter filled the walls.
The skin being ripped off of me inch by agonizing inch.
The haze still clouding my mind makes it worse, pulling the past and present into one tangled knot I can’t cut myself free from.
Then hands slide beneath me and my eyes sting with the tears I don’t want to shed for these monsters to greedily lap up.
My body folds uselessly into them, head lolling against the solid wall of a chest, but panic flares sharp in the fog, tearing through what little strength I have left. My fingers twitch against the fabric, nails scraping weakly as I try to shove and twist away, to make the arms let go. I push again, harder this time, though my muscles shake with the effort.
It does nothing.
Their grip only tightens, hauling me closer against them, and my breath is shallow and frantic.The familiar scent of cedar breaks through with each inhale pressed against this person’s chest.
I force my eyelids to part once more, the weight of them dragging like lead, and the initial blur clears just enough for me to see him.
Callum.
His arms cinch tighter around me, dragging me closer against his chest, and through the haze, I catch the quick curve of his mouth as he meets my eyes.
A smile.
The sight sends heat lancing through my blood, a spark of pure rage that cuts through the sedative fog sharper than anything else has.
Why the fuck is he smiling at me?
