ALEX
The moon has long passed above the window on the ceiling, but the doctor doesn’t arrive. I wiggle my wrist out of the knot until my skin burns.
The following day, he still doesn’t arrive. My wrists start to bleed from the repetitive friction. The sting and burn turn into outright pain and agony.
On the third day, he’s still not here. I am starving and weak, and my wrists feel like they are in flames. But the restraints are loose now, the fabric drenched in blood.
I am untying my left wrist when I hear the familiar beeping of the door. I reach over to the nearest drawer and grab a syringe.
“I’m so sorry, love. Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says as he steps closer. He looks tired, worn-out, and angry all at the same time. “You know I’d never leave you like this. But your brother and your b
