Marisol
After my father cornered me in my room and had his goons knock me out, I don’t know how much time passed. I woke up, dressed in a filthy puke green hospital gown, strapped to a metal table. There was a blinding light overhead that had me seeing stars and took all of my focus to see my surroundings.
After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted, and I was both saddened and relieved to see Gabby strapped to a table no more than three feet away from me. She wasn’t moving and was wearing the same disgusting gown; only hers looked like it was covered in bloodstains.
I prayed that they weren’t hers; I couldn’t bear to see her hurt.
“Gabby, can you hear me? I need you to wake up, babe; we need to figure out where we are,” I whispered.
The light was still abusing my
