Page 107 of Bad Blood

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I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I fight as hard as my father taught me to.

I kick.

I twist.

I buck…

Then something sharp pierces the side of my neck, and my whole world slides into darkness.

Epilogue

Thalia

It’s pitch-black.

My eyelids feel like concrete.

I keep them shut tight until I can muster enough strength to open them. When I do, a hot and sticky world comes rushing in—blanketed by a cloudy haze.

It smells of metal and salt. I can hear something, too. There’s a buzzing noise above my head. I try to look up, but my head feels even heavier than my eyelids.

There’s a flickering LED tube light running along the ceiling.

Flick. Buzz. Flick. Buzz. Flick. Buzz.

Watching it makes me feel sick, so I close my eyes again and concentrate on forcing back the waves of nausea. It finally subsides, only to be replaced by a drilling ache inside my head.

Dizzy.

Why am I so dizzy?

It feels like my brain is sloshing back and forth.

Am I hungover?

I go to rub my temple, but I can’t.

I try again.

I still can’t.

Something’s not right…

Opening my eyes wider, I force myself to focus on the light. That’s when I notice it’s not my brain that’s sloshing back and forth. It’s the floor.

My pulse thumps a wild beat in my ears as I try to move my arms again.

“What’s happening?” I beg the haze, my voice hoarse and unrecognizable to me.

Only silence answers.

I hate silence.

Squeezing my eyes shut again, I force myself to remember snapshots frombefore.

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