Chapter 22
Was she supposed to look at her new freedom as some kind of gift? Abbott had repaired the door and put a new lock outside after he had burned her—but she didn’t want to think about that. She was free now, inside the room. With no ropes to bind her, she was free to roam this little box from hell.
Gratitude?
Beth huddled further into a corner of the storage room, wishing she could go back to sleep, wishing it was as simple as willing that warm oblivion to surround her once more. She wished she could sleep forever.
But the cold burn on her inner thigh sent pinpricks of pain through her, tingling and insistent. She tried not to imagine the dead skin under the bandage, the white blood cells beneath battling infection.
She put a hand to her head, wanting to rip these thoughts—of
