Hope sinks in my chest like a stone in the ocean, and I lay my head back and stare up at the ceiling asshe moves down the stairs and into the dining room.
The door opens. “You look like shit.”
I sit up and see a put-together Rian standing in front of me. She has on a royal blue pencil skirt with acream shirt tucked in, the buttons done up to her throat. She looks like a villain from a science fictionmovie.
“Smell like it, too,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “We did our best to clean you up after you had yourlittle ‘accident.’”
I don’t know what she means until I look down at myself and realize I’m in different clothes. I’m nolonger in my pajamas but in a cotton pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt.
My bladder is empty. I peed myself.
“You force-fed me water and refused t
