Chapter 13 The Pitch

• The soft glow of the morning sunlight filtered through the window and pressed against Zara’s closed eyelid.
• As she slowly flickered her eyes open, she was welcomed by the sterile scent of antiseptic, the muffled sounds of distant voices, and the steady beeping of a machine.
• Her fingers twitched against crisp sheets, and as the fog in her mind slowly cleared, a dull ache settled in her limbs. Her throat felt dry, her head heavy.