Thalia
When I wake up, it’s hard to tell how much time has elapsed since the rogues abducted me; two days, perhaps? There is no way for me to confirm since there are no windows in the dank basement that would allow me to witness the sun. Plus, they haven’t come here in a while, so I haven’t gotten an opportunity to ask them either. Not that I think they’d give me an answer; I’m not particularly popular.
My eyes gradually adjust to the dark. I am lying on the frigid, unyielding floor, my skin naked and dirty with soil and tears. My hair is matted and twisted; my skin feels exposed and throbbing. I really want to take a shower, but I have a feeling I won’t be going home for a while.
Shit.
Why haven’t Regan or Everett found me yet?
Anxiety churns in my stomach. The rogues must be too man
