Sometimes you have to look back in order to move forward. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where that is the only thing you can do, which is exactly what Addison Greyer knew had to be done when she awoke in a hazy fog with something warm and wet trickling down her head. She was disoriented and weak. Where was she?
Before her brain could grasp the answer, she felt herself slip back into sleep. She willed herself to wake up, to open her eyes, but it was of no use. She went in and out several times before finally awaking to what sounded like the clanking of chains. What were those crazy boys doing now? And why was she asleep?
Her head hurt, badly. There was that sound again. Ok, wake up, damn it. Finally, her eyes opened, though just barely. She saw a blurry figure standing a few feet in front of her but was still too disoriented to determine whom it was. The metallic smell of blood overwhelmed her. She could taste it. Was she dreaming? Was she dead? She felt the cold of the concrete below her. Her head felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds, but she forced herself to lift it. She wiggled her toes. She wasn’t dead. Again, she heard the clanking of the chains, which made her head throb worse, and then a male voice. “Wake up,” it demanded.
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