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Right where she belonged.
3
~Asher~
No! Fuck, no!
“Aurora! Aurora, no! No! No!”
Failure.
I’d failed.
I’d fucking failed them all.
Now you’ll take your punishment.
The clang of metal jolted me awake.
I had to fight to open my eyes, the left one swollen and only managing it partially.
My head was swimming, my thoughts clouded.
It was a tossup as to what the source was—or, more accurately, a combination. The lack of nicotine in my system, withdrawal beginning from the anxiety meds, the stimulants, the injuries from the beatdown I’d sustained in that concrete room, or even another fucking sedative coursing through my veins.
Shit, it wasn’t the best to work with.
Not in the least.
I was struggling just to push past my blurry, compromised vision.
Trying to get my bearings was another trying task entirely.
Harsh fingers grasped my arm suddenly, startling me.
That only intensified when the offender used the hold to slam me up against something metal, the pressure so hard that I felt it bruising my bare skin.
Bare skin? Was I not clothed?
I thought I’d been in a suit? I didn’t… what was happening?
I patted myself with my free hand, my movements haphazard and awkward.
I managed it nonetheless, realizing I was in nothing but my boxers.
Cold. I was cold. Freezing. That was why I was trembling then, not just from withdrawal or being forcibly shot up with chemicals against my will.
I was slammed into the metal thing over and over until it felt like my bones were literally rattling as much as the metal surrounding me.
I blinked repeatedly as adrenaline started kicking in as my body realized I was under threat and it needed to respond appropriately, not remain in the useless, almost completely shutdown state it was currently languishing in.
I was able to make it out then.
The metal. The source.
A shudder rolled through me when I was just about able to take them in.
Bars.
