25

FALLON My eyelids flutter open, rebelling against the harsh light that assaults my senses. I blink against the heaviness in my head, the world coming into focus with cruel clarity. The ache that permeates every inch of my flesh is a reminder of the ordeal I’d endured, the bruises painting a mosaic of pain on my skin. My breaths are shallow gasps, each one laced with the sharp twinge of battered ribs protesting my movement and the aching of my shoulder that worsens with each breath. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sore in my life. Groaning, I try to lift my hand to my temple, which throbs in sync with a pounding headache. But for some reason, I find my movement abruptly halted. Panic surges as I realize I’m chained to the bed, one wrist locked tightly in a handcuff. My breath quickens, fear clawing at my chest as the claustrophobic feeling accelerates, reminding me of walls closing in. I frantically tug at the restraint, which does nothing but cause the chain to rattle uselessly. It’s