AS A PREY
Mathilda’s POV
Consciousness didn't return to me all at once; it came in jagged, painful shards that pierced through a thick, chemical fog. My first sensation was the smell, an acrid, suffocating blend of stale cigarette smoke, spilled diesel, and the metallic tang of rust.
I open my eyes, but for a terrifying moment, I think I am blind. The darkness is a heavy weight pressing against my retinas. Then, as my pupils dilated, I began to see better, I am not in a room. I am in a cage.
The first instinct of any woman in this position is a terrifying inventory of her own body. I move my hands, or try to. My wrists are bound tight with industrial zip ties. Every time I move, the plastic teeth bite deeper into my skin, cutting off the circulation until my fingers feel like leaden
