65
She wished she were dead.
Dead would set her free from this life that hadn’t been hers to control in a very long time.
-Get your ass up. Get your ass—-
She clicked it off. The voice in her head could keep its advice. She didn’t care. She was done. She was over it. She would just lay here in this bed until someone came to force her out, then she’d make them kill her.
There was nothing worth getting up for.
Someone poked her.
The sensation brought her from the bliss of mindlessness.
She grunted annoyance but didn’t move.
“Her wounds are healed. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
She recognized Doctor Blackwell’s voice, wondered at her presence.
Then it came to her: They’d shot her. Again.
First from the back, then the front. Then, too many times to count.
She must have fall
