Chapter 96 A Cold Facility
- The cold rouses me.
- A sterile cold, not like the coolness of the lush garden through the hotel balcony. No. This is dead air. The kind that clings to your skin like plastic wrap, thin and suffocating. It tastes like metal.
- I stir slowly, my skull pounding as if someone has set a drum to beat behind my eyes. I attempt to lift my hand but find it won't move. My wrists are bound.