AMANDA
The first swallow burns. The second makes my throat tighten. By the third, my body stops being mine. Heat licks up my spine, too much, too fast, too wrong. My stomach turns, my limbs go liquid, and the room—the whole f*****g room tilts.
I blink, or maybe I don’t. Everything is smearing together.
Dark shapes stretch and twist in my vision, shadows curling at the edges. My fingers twitch, but they don’t move the way they should. The floor presses against my skin, cold and sharp, but I can’t feel myself sinking.
“One more, sweetheart.”
Theodus.
A sound drags from my throat, but I don’t know what it is. A plea? A protest? It doesn’t matter. His fingers brush against my cheek, a slow, lazy caress that feels too much, too little, too everything.
I can’t move.
I blink again. The r
