19

I’M MET BY MISTRESS ELL on my return to the house. She ushers me up the stairs without a word or care for my ordeal. Orders me to remove my slippers and lie on the bed. I don’t resist. The world around me has been shifting in and out of focus since I stood up from the couch. My head feels like a cotton candy cloud.

I think I’m fuzzy from loss of blood, dignity and soul.

Lying down sounds like a wonderful idea. Mistress Ell looms over me as my eyes close, but I honestly don’t care if she stands there and watches all day and night. What more can they possibly do to me?

I feel the prick in the side of my neck and my eyes fly wide open.

Mistress Ell is straightening. My eyes struggle to focus on the object in her hand. A syringe? That makes no sense.

My arm lifts, my fingers reaching for my neck—halfway there, my arm turns to lead and flops beside me on the bed. I try again, but it’s a gargantuan effort and my breaths are slowing, my eyelids growing too heavy to keep...open...