13
Annaliese Macalestern stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. The gold tile glistened behind her, the shower faucet dripped slowly, and steam clouded the mirror.
She was wrapped in a towel.
Slowly, she grabbed a bar of soap off the bathroom counter.
Her hand quivered.
She dropped the soap against her will.
She picked it up again and grasped it with all her might.
But still, the soap slipped from her hand.
The muscles in her hand twitched, felt as if she’d gripped a steering wheel too tightly for several hours.
It felt weak. She willed strength into it, but it was tender. She clenched her hand several times, but she was starting to lose feeling. The muscles were going numb.
She wiped away a semi-circle of steam on the glass and looked at herself again.
She whimpered.
She wa
