I sob, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. The pain blooms, radiating outward, my arm burning as warm wetness trails down toward my wrist.
Henry steps back, breaking a little harder now.
“There,” he says softly. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
I’m shaking violently, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My arm throbs, pain pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I can feel the blood, so much of it, sliding down my skin.
My heads starts to feel…light. Floaty. The edges of the room blur, the fluorescent lights stretching into long white streaks.
Henry crouches in front of me, bringing himself level with my face, he gives me a sip from a water bottle he grabbed from the tray. “This is only the beginning, sweetheart. A little reminder to keep you motivated. You don’t want to be non-compliant when my benefactor shows up. Trust me, that won’t be good for you.”
Another cut, but this one on my bicep. It sends pain spiking up my arm and I scream.
He gives me another drink.
“There you go,” he coos. “Drink it all up.”
Something feels off.
Within a few moments, I can’t focus on his face anymore. It swims in ad out of clarity, his features warping. My tongue feels thick in my mouth.
“What was…that blade…make me feel…” I can’t keep the words straight.
Henry straightens. “Don’t worry,” he assures me. “The water was laced with a little something to help loosen you up a bit. Get the truth out of you.”
“Don’t…anything…”
Henry straightens. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll let that cocktail settle in a bit.”
He leaves me bleeding, shaking, and dizzy, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance once more.
The world tilts.
I fight it at first. I refuse to pass out. Refuse to give him that satisfaction. I focus on the pain. On the sticky warmth on my arm. On the ache in my shoulders from being bound.
But my body betrays me.
The floor feels farther away. The chair feels like it is tipping backward even though it isn’t moving. My thoughts drift, disjointed and slow.
Moments blur together. Or maybe minutes. Perhaps hours. Time stops making sense.
Then…
Heels catch on the concrete with sharp, deliberate steps.
The sound slices through the fog in my head, pulling me back toward awareness. I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.
The footsteps stop in front of me.
I squint, my eyes struggling to focus. At first, all I see is a silhouette. Tall. Still.
Then the light catches her face.
My breath catches painfully in my chest.
“You.”
She looks nothing like the woman I saw on the porch at Blue Skye.
