Page 27 of What Goes Around

I had no sense of time. No idea how long I’d been out. Minutes. Hours.

I wasn’t alone.

I could hear them through the walls.

The other girls.

Crying. Whispering. Begging.

Earlier, a door had slammed open somewhere nearby. A man’s voice had thundered down the hallway, sharp and furious, yelling at one of them.

Then the sounds started.

A slap.

A dull thud.

Her scream.

High. Broken. Endless.

I pressed my hands over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut, but it didn’t matter.

I heard everything.

Finally it was quiet again.

Only her soft, shattered sobs leaking through the silence.

I didn’t need to see it.

I knew exactly what had happened.

He came for me next.

He didn’t rush. He stood there for a moment, just looking at me, his eyes dragging slowly over my face like he was inspecting something damaged. Something not quite right. His gaze lingered on the left side, and I felt it like a touch.

“Who are you?” My voice came out thin, shaking. “Where am I? Why am I here?”

Nothing.

“Please,” I tried again, my throat tightening. “You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t have anything, I can’t—”

He didn’t say a word.

He pulled a syringe from his pocket and stepped closer.

“No—wait—” I tried to move, to pull away, but my body was still heavy, slow, like it belonged to someone else. His hand clamped around my arm, fingers digging in hard, and the needle sank into my skin.

I gasped.

“What—what is that?” Panic spiked sharp and fast. “Don’t—please, don’t—”

The burn spread instantly, hot and thick under my skin.

Then something else followed.

Warmth.