Chapter 23
The city blurs past the tinted window, a smear of neon and shadow. I don't recognize the streets. My hands are folded in my lap, perfectly still. My medical bag sits on the leather seat beside me, a familiar weight in an unfamiliar world. The man driving—Leo—hasn’t spoken since I got in. The silence is a vacuum, and my thoughts scream into it. I left. I actually left. The reality of it hits me in a cold, nauseating wave. I am in the back of a stranger’s car, wearing the clothes I slept in, my body a map of bruises Marcus painted just days ago. I have no phone. No plan. Just the direction of a man who pays me to hurt him. “How much farther?” My voice is too calm. It’s my professional voice, the one that asks about pain levels on a scale of one to ten. “Not long, Dr. Voss.” Leo’s eyes me
- Writer
