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30
Annie
Iwoke up at the black hour because all the alarms were going off.
The first thing was the pain. The second was the nausea. I made it into the bathroom despite a leg that felt like it was stretched thin, the skin made of crackling blistering breaking fat, like overcooked bacon.
There had been a smell like that.
The memory made me vomit again. This time soft cool hands pulled my hair back and held it for me. When I subsided, flushed with one hand and lay my head on the cool of the closed lid, the hands pulled my hair into a low ponytail and secured it. They went away, came back with a glass with about two inches of golden liquid in the bottom.
"What is it?" My voice sounded as burned and blistered as my ass. I'd screamed myself unconscious.
"Ginger ale. We didn't give you anything earlier because we didn't know but we have some painkillers."
I vaguely remembered hearing them.
"Just the Advil. I'm an addict." I turned my head so I could see her.
Mia considered me. "You're not jonesing."
"I'm in recovery." I would always be in recovery. I would never risk that.
She tightened her lips in a rueful smile. "Too bad. Advil's only going to take the edge off."
"Much as I'd welcome oblivion, I need to be aware. What time is it? Do we have time to get to his office again?"
She looked at one of the clock radios that had been brought in. "Yes."
I liked the flat, blunt statement.
"But are you going to be able to?"
Even if I had to go through another day with Bevington, I had to do this tonight. It was the only way I would get through another day. Four of us versus six or eight armed guards wouldn't work.
So get the proof.
And get hold of Cole.
And let him use the trackers and come get us.
And pray that was still going to work.
