June POV:
"Did you really think you'd be saved?"
"Justin won't come this time."
"He doesn't even know where you are…"
A ragged scream rips from my chest. I twist and fight, slamming my body against the restraints until something in my wrist pops. Pain flares. Still, I don't stop.
I have to move. I can't be tied again.
Not like that.
My body remembers more than my mind does.
The pain. The confusion. The nights of being half-awake, half-drugged, locked in my own head while men in white coats watched me like I was a lab rat. A thing.
I'd started to forget those memories.
Justin made me forget.
I was wearing heels and lipstick and teasing him with lap dances.
Now I'm strapped down like a beast again.
The tears come harder. My throat burns. My cheeks sting.
I start to chant. It's nonsense, but it keeps me from listening to the whispers.
"He's coming. He's coming. He's coming—he'll find me—he always finds me—Justin—please—please—please—"
The door rattles.
I freeze.
