Chapter Seven
Lady Kimbrough
“Turn around and put your hands outside. You know the drill.”
Emory’s face filled the small observation panel in the steel door. Without a word I did as ordered, just as I had done the last two weeks. Every morning the light snapped on overhead, the harsh glow banishing my dark dreams. In them I was always trying to lift something, a small stone, a thin branch, or even a small pencil, but they always proved too heavy. No matter how much I struggled I couldn’t keep a grip and the object would fall from my hands and land with a dull thump. Then Emory, or sometimes one of the other ladies, would pick it up with no trouble and I would stand there, suddenly bound tight, embarrassed at my ineptness. They would hold it up and say, “See, that wasn’t hard at all. Why
