I woke to a monotone buzzing and the flickering of a dying bulb above me. My head ached and my mouth felt as though I had been sucking on cotton. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, backed over, and run over again.
Licking my cracked and bleeding lips, I shifted on the bed, attempting to find comfort. It felt wrong to call it that. It was little more than a cot. The mattress was thin, less than six inches thick, so I could feel every broken spring. It was stained, and smelled faintly of mildew. Pain blazed through me, rendering me blind as my right leg throbbed. I let out a shattered cry, moving my arms to hold my knee. The rattle of chains stopped me dead.
Twisting at the waist, I stared at my left hand. A metal cuff surrounded my wrist, pinning me to the wrought iron headboard. I star
