Rag over my mouth.
Chemical sting.
Burning.
My lungs seized up in reflex, my body fighting before my brain caught up. I thrashed, elbows catching air, heels scraping uselessly against the floor.
Too strong.
Too fast.
The chemical burned down my throat, sharp and bitter. My vision tunneled, the edges going dark first.
Smoke barked again. Wild and furious.
Then nothing.
My scream never made it out.
The world spun sideways.
Darkness closed in.
And just before it swallowed me whole, I heard his voice in my head, gravel rough and low.
Always.
Pain came first.
A pounding in my skull, deep and sharp, like someone had driven a spike behind my eyes. My limbs were heavy. Numb. Like they weren’t mine anymore.
I tried to move. Couldn't.
My mouth was dry. My tongue felt swollen. There was a metallic taste in my throat, like blood, or maybe the chemical that knocked me out.
I forced my eyes open.
Everything was blurry.
Dim light flickered overhead. Fluorescents. A cement floor under me. Cold and unforgiving. My hands were bound behind my back. Plastic zip ties. My ankles too.
I blinked hard, trying to force the fog away.
I was in a van.
A big one. No windows, just metal walls and the low, grumbling hum of an engine. Boxes stacked against one side. A single camera in the corner, red light blinking.
Every bump in the road rattled through my bones. The metal floor vibrated beneath me, cold leaching into my skin.
I cataloged everything automatically.
Engine pitch.
Turns.
Time between stops.
Counted breaths.
