Chapter Thirteen
“Garrison Tate, you asshole!”
I woke with a splitting headache and I had to pee. But what happened while I tried to make it to the door—the chain attached to my ankle cuffs kicked in and I was thrown back, off balance. My queasy stomach might have heaved if I hadn’t forcibly held it back.
I sank to the floor screaming.
When the door finally opened and a cool-headed Garrison appeared, I started in with a full attack.
“You f*****g asshole. I have to pee. What do you think you’re doing?”
He didn’t say a word, but marched right out and returned with an oval, metal waste-can. “Here. Use this.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said as I sat up. My head was spinning.
“I’m not. You’ve done as much before,” he said pointedly.
“What is this? You’re keeping me locked up?”
