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Lyssa I woke slowly, the kind of slow that came after exhaustion instead of real rest. For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. The couch beneath me felt unfamiliar, the blanket too heavy over my legs, the air in the room cooler than I was used to. My eyes stayed closed as I drifted in that strange space between sleep and waking, trying to make sense of the ache in my body. My neck was stiff. My face felt tight, like I'd cried myself dry. There was a dull pounding behind my eyes, not sharp enough to be a headache, but close. And then it all came back, the van, the hands, the fear, Brooklyn, my own sister hiring the men that tried to take me. My eyes opened all at once, and for a second, my breath caught so hard it hurt. The room was quiet, washed in the pale gray light of early morni
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