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Chapter 8

  • —Ellie—
  • When I crack open my eyelids, I blink a few times to make sure I’m not dreaming. My thoughts are muddy, my tongue is dry, and my wrists really hurt. There’s a weird medicinal taste in my mouth that I want to spit out, but I’m seriously low on saliva. I shake my head to try to get rid of the brain fog and get rewarded with a sharp pain in my shoulder.
  • Oh, that might be due to the fact that someone tied my wrists together with a rough rope and left me hanging by my arms.
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