Aeliana
I don't know how I didn't notice the night before. But this morning, after waking from a fitful sleep against the cold bumpy wall, the first thing I felt after how sore I had become was how hungry I was.
I shifted uncomfortably. If I stayed still, the burning of the silver cuffs against my reddened and raw skin almost felt like a white-hot numbness. But the moment I moved, the cuffs slid across my wrists and ankles, awakening a prickling pain like hundreds of needles piercing my already tender flesh. I was trying to toe the line between that pain and the pain of sitting in one position for too long, but the constant torment was starting to get to me.
My stomach growled again. The man who gave me water had left before the sun came up, when the sky was turning the dull gray of daw
