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A choked sound builds in the back of my throat, getting caught when my body protests.
It burns.
Like my insides have been shredded.
I start to panic, not remembering at first.What…
Flashes of memories burst across my vision.
Bright lights.
The tube. Liquid sloshing around inside me.
The hands cupping my face and holding down my shoulders.
They saved me…
A sob works up my throat, and I don’t know if it’s from relief or frustration, but it’s as overwhelming as it is painful. All these feelings I can’t put words to, even if I could speak—even if I wanted to…
What’s the point of anything?
“…woke him.”
An exasperated huff, then, “Skyler, Skyler!” Mother barks, and I sense her draw near. Wilting into the bed, I try to turn away, but I can’t. I’m trapped.
Just like at Canaan…
The monitor next to my head starts beeping faster…
Louder.
I lurch up, only for something to yank me back down. Something pulls at my ankles. My arms. Footsteps thunder into the room, and there are hands—so many hands grabbing me.
Voices rise around me, clamoring to be heard.
It’s too bright, even behind my eyelids.
Grunts and whines scrape up my injured throat—the only sounds I’m capable of making, my screams carrying out no louder than soundless gasps that bring an ache to my jaw and straining muscles.
One second, I’m fighting for my life. Thrashing, trapped in the prison that is my head…my body…
And then the next, I feel warmth gushing through my veins, turning my limbs into sand.
I’m sinking…
Sinking…
Sinking into the mattress.
The world dims, and once again, I’m gone.
* * *
“But I’m eighteen,”I say in a small, raspy voice, staring down at my lap unblinkingly.
It’s the following day—Ithink—and while my throat sears like nothing else, my head is clearer than it’s been in a long time.
And I’m no longer restrained.
