Her vision recovered, the necrothralls were horrifying to see. The adipocere gave a taut waxy sheen to the greyish-purple mottling of their skin, and the sclera around their clouding pupils were red or vivid yellow. Their fingertips were blackened and rotting off. The smell of chemical preservatives and rot made Helena sick, but they wouldn’t let her stop walking until her legs gave out and they had to drag her back into the cell.
The walks blurred together along with the days. Helena didn’t know how long she’d been in Central; the lights never went out, and all the windows were covered and sealed.
“Is this her?” A man with a ghastly pale face and a sharp, needle-thin nose suddenly stepped out from a room and into Helena’s path as she was being shoved along the perpetual route.
Helena g
