ISLA
The darkness is so familiar. It used to be the thing that comforted me, but I want nothing more now than to escape it. Zac has become my safe place.
Small glimpses of reality interrupt the darkness every now and then, but I know I haven’t had a chance to fully regain consciousnesses. The burning sensations that accompany each new image, I’m guessing that they keep injecting me. I really hope it’s not hurting the baby…
The pain is the first thing to come back to me. I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mac truck, and then they threw it in reverse for good measure. I blink my eyes open and groan out in pain, my mouth no longer covered.
It looks like a basement. There are no windows, concrete floors, and walls, each just as filthy as the other, and a door with a gap at the bottom lets ligh
