“She was,” another man insists from the doorway. “I guess she’s awake now. Just in time.”
“What are you doing here?” I try to sit up, but the man grabs my chain and yanks me towards him.
I wait for the painful tug of metal against my wrists, but it doesn’t come.
“Stand up. And if you hit me again, I’ll hit you back,” he warns.
My chains are loose. The cell door is open.
Half of my brain is still locked in the nightmare, but the other half is scrambling to make sense of what’s happening.
“Where are you taking me?”
They don’t answer. They silently lead me out of the room and into the hallway.
I’m not sure why Trofim thinks I need two guards on me. I can’t even stand up on my own, let alone fight someone twice as big as me.
My legs are shaky. The only times I’ve stood up in days have
