When I wake up again the voice is back, but not as shrill as before. It’s just a tiny cry compared to this morning, so maybe the penth is wearing off a bit, letting reality bleed through the drug’s numbing ward. I can move now, and when I shift in the bed I feel someone squeeze my hand. Barely there but it’s some sensation, at least. It’s Tobin, tears streaking his cheeks and blurring his eyes, but when he sees my eyelids flutter open he kisses my forehead, pressing his cool lips against my skin until they warm at the touch. Smoothing my hair back from my face, he sighs my name. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I choke. My throat is dry and I sit up slowly, afraid to make any sudden move that will bring the voice shrieking back at me. I hold my head in one hand while he holds a gl
