Zara
Sensory details return in fractured, brutal fragments before my eyes can even open.
The first thing is the cold. A bitter, damp, bone-chilling air that seeps through my coat, clinging to my skin like a frozen shroud.
The second is the taste. A thick, nauseating chemical metallic residue sitting heavy on the back of my tongue, making my stomach churn violently.
The third is the pain. A dull, throbbing ache radiating across my left cheekbone and down the side of my jaw where a monster hit me.
My eyelids feel like lead, fluttering against the gloom as consciousness drags me back from the dark abyss.
The baby.
The thought hits my brain like a bolt of electricity, incinerating the lingering fog of the chloroform. My heart slams against my ribs in a sudden, wild panic, adrenaline s
