Grace
Had my in-laws paid the ransom? And if so, where was Charles? Why hadn’t they found him? Who’d taken him in the first place?
These were answers to questions that no one wanted to touch. It matters, and it matters a lot, but for now, I have more pressing issues. At least according to my roommate. “Dr. Branson is going to perform your procedure. I think you might have maybe three days… if you’re lucky.”
“They’ll find Charles before then. The doctor has no grounds.”
She laughs a heady laugh. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “Except that he thinks he’s helping. And, plus, he has to keep you from talking.”
I hate her because she’s right. And also because she might be the closest thing I have to an actual friend. Certainly, none of the ones I thought I had have visited me in here
