Fawn’s POV
By the time morning actually arrived, I was over it.
Over the beeping. Over the constant blood pressure checks. Over being poked like I might suddenly deflate. Over the word miracle.
Definitely over the IV pole.
Angela unhooked the last of the lines with a little flourish, like she was removing the final chain from a hostage. “There,” she said. “Free.”
I flexed my hand, rubbing the tape marks. “So, I’m officially not a science project anymore?” The skin around where the needle had entered my skin was a little tender.
She smiled. “Oh, they’ll still be talking about you for years. But yes. You can go.”
“Excellent. I have people to… not kill but hurt a lot.” I told her.
She gave me a look, thinking I was joking. “Your clothes are in the bag,” she nodded toward the armchair.
