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My fingers brush against soft material, and I reach for it, trying to hold on, but it's agony.
This hurts too much.
Everything hurts too much.
I try to open my eyes but I don't even have the strength to do that.
Am I dead?
Is this what death feels like?
No, this is worse than death. So much worse.
This is Hell.
A vicious memory slams into my mind in full technicolor. A man… No, askeletonhas me in its grasp. Its bony fingers tighten around my throat in a vice, its strange green eyes ablaze with fury and wrath. Panic rushes through my body and I convulse at the memory. My subconscious mind cowering from the trauma.
No. No. No. No.
My lips part.
A tiny whimper escapes.
"Cyn?"
A voice. A male voice. Lyrical, warm.
I recognise it, but I can’t place it.
Why can’t I place it?
Why can’t I open my eyes?
I’m seized by panic as oxygen is sucked from my lungs. I feel like I’m drowning, sound and vision distorted as I gasp for breath.
"It's okay. You're safe now. You're safe," he reassures me.
Gentle lips press against my temple.
Soft. Loving. Welcome.
“We’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I fade away, drawn back into the arms of oblivion.
Time passes. Minutes. Hours.
I'm carried, passed from one set of strong arms to another until someone lays me down on a bed, a warm breeze passing over my skin.
Even that hurts.
"Karim's doctor is going to examine you now," that same voice from earlier says as fingers gently press against my bruised skin.
It hurts.
“She must be in incredible pain,” a foreign voice says. “Her injuries are fresher than some of the other women I just examined. These have been inflicted in the last day or so.”
“Has she been…?” Another familiar voice asks, voice cracking.
