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If I could just get my body healed, then I could finally think straight and not lose myself to fantasies.
I lived in dream worlds.
I babbled to Neri.
I saw pretty-jewelled fish swimming in my catacomb.
I felt the heat of the Australian sun and swore I felt the undulation of the Coral Sea beneath my bed.
If I could stop the hallucinations, then I could finally think straight.
I would be able to figure out how to grab a gun and shoot my way out.
Neri.
I can go home to Neri...
My head tipped forward as Cem buckled in my right arm. He’d already strapped in my tattooed arm, but he still wore his usual scowl of disapproval while glowering at it.
Did he hate all tattoos or just that one?
Did he know Neri had the same?
Did he hate that I’d willingly marked myself as belonging to her all while forbidding him the same right of owning me?
“Roll up his pant legs. I think we’ll do his ankles today,” Cem muttered as if he was discussing the weather and not where to torture me.
At least he hadn’t carried through with his threat to electrocute my balls.
Not yet, at least.
I moaned as the guard’s hands roughly jerked up my trackpants. I hissed as air swirled around my blazing calf and another crest of lightheadedness made the cave fade for a moment.
“Eh, patron?”
“What is it?” Cem barked, fiddling with the dials on the machine.
“You might want to take a look at this.”
With a soft curse, Cem came toward me, glanced down at my left leg, then blanched. Dropping to his haunches, he grabbed my ankle and pressed his thumb into the wasted, missing muscle.
I groaned in misery.
I flushed with nausea.
“How long has your leg been like this?” His head snapped up, his eyes sharp on mine. “Aslan? How long?!”
Too sharp.
The only sharp thing when everything else was fuzzy.
And soft.
Fuzzy and soft and—
“Aslan.” Cem’s hands landed on my cheeks. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me!?”
I licked my paper-dry lips. “I-I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
