Page 773 of End Game

Cameron

I know my feet are on the floor.

This should be obvious information.

Feet are generally either on the floor or they are not, and considering I have spent the last however-the-fuck-long hanging naked from the ceiling, I feel like I should be able to appreciate the distinction.

Except my body has apparently not received the update yet.

Griffin has one arm around my waist. Micah is on my other side, steadying me while Ronan crouches in front of me, asking questions I understand about two seconds after he says them.

Anything numb?

No.

Tingling?

No.

Fingers?

Good.

Toes?

Also good.

Blood sugar?

Apparently good, according to Griffin.

Cool.

Excellent.

All systems operational.

My brain is still somewhere near the ceiling.

The strange thing is that I remember everything.

Not necessarily in order, but in pieces so sharp they almost feel separate from the rest of the room.

The rope compressing my skin.

The moment my weight stopped belonging to my feet.

Micah looking at me before the blindfold went on and telling me I was art.

Griffin's hand between my thighs, warm and familiar without actually giving me enough to chase.

The first impact from the flogger.

Then the next.

Dex making frustrated sounds through the gag somewhere I couldn't see him.

And Ronan.