The patterned rug feels soft under my grimy bare feet. I stare at them and wiggle my toes. Then I lift my head, tearing my eyes away from my feet, to stare at the door I had come through. It's like I can hear their muffled screams. I clasp a hand over my mouth, feeling like throwing up. The woman, whose name I haven't asked, is silent, almost as if she's waiting for me to say something. But I don't say anything, because what do I say? The energy has drained out of my body. I just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do. It doesn't matter what I say anyway. It's not like me saying something will change anything. I'm here, held captive in a place I don't know, and because of that, Mace will walk into a trap--all because I didn't want, and refused, to listen.
So, what's the point?
She must
