Page 532 of Fated Mates of Breeder Prison

The sharp, biting pain was gone, replaced by a cool numbness that spread throughout my body.

A wave of drowsiness washed over me, a heavy blanket that threatened to pull me under.

With a sigh, I stumbled back onto the cot.

The room spun around me, the walls a blur of grays and whites.

My hands gripped the edge of the mattress, the rough texture grounding me amid the disarray.

Ellie’s scent filled the room, her presence a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos.

I turned my back on her, retreating into the safe confines of my mind, where the pain was nothing more than a distant echo.

The vision of the beach returned, this time overlaid with the image of Ellie with a syringe, her face etched with determination.

I knew then, as the darkness began to claim me, that she was not only a part of my vision but also my reality — a part of the struggle, of the fight.

Sleep took me quickly, an escape from the sterile confines of my prison cell.

The last thing I registered was the faint hum of the prison’s heartbeat, a rhythm that was quickly drowned out by the gentle lull of waves from the Distant Vision.

3

ELLIE

The room was dull, echoing with the hollow emptiness of a life devoid of freedom.

I stared at the array of unfamiliar medicines, each one encased in odd-colored vials and foreign syringes.

My fingers grazed over them, feeling the cool touch of the alien materials.

These were the tools I was supposed to use to save a life and, in doing so, save myself.

The small electronic device hummed under my fingers, illuminating the darkened room with an ethereal glow.

The Supervisor had handed it to me, a seemingly simple device that held a wealth of information.

It told me what each vial was for, how to administer the medicine, the recommended dosages — everything.

The device was surprisingly easy to use, despite the alien technology.

As I went through the list, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia.

Back on Earth, I was a nurse.

The tools were different, but the goal was the same — to heal.

The metallic clang of the cell door interrupted my thoughts.

A guard stood in the entrance, a plastic tray in his hands.

The sight of food — if you could call it that — almost made me laugh.

It was a lump of gelatinous mass, the color of sickly green, wobbling ominously on the plate.

The scent hit me next, a tangy, unfamiliar aroma that did nothing to appease my growing hunger.

I took a tentative bite, the bizarre texture and even stranger taste doing little to fill the void in my stomach.

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