Thirty-Eight
Justice rolled onto her side, gasping as pain shot through her body. Her eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, hands going to her chest where she had been shot by the stun gun. She winced as she probed the tender spot, taking stock of her surroundings.
Grime encrusted windows allowed streaks of sunlight to warm up the small room. Dirt speckled walls were covered in peeling paint that might have been a cheery yellow several decades ago but was now a dull and depressing cream. The only furniture in the room other than the metal-framed bed she currently sat on was a small table with two chairs that looked even older than the paint. The stained mattress on the bed was lumpy, sagging in the middle, with no covers or a pillow. Just like many of the hotels Justice and her bodyg
