Page 25 of Pastel Kisses

Panic seizes my chest.

My body reacts before my mind does. I slap at her hand, wildly aiming to knock the needle away.

“Don’t fight me, Avery,” she hisses, eyes flashing with irritation. “I’llwinevery time.”

The metal bar slams into my ribs, stealing the breath from my lungs. My body crumples under the force, my vision swimming.

Before I can recover, shestabsthe syringe into my thigh, jamming the plunger down with brutal efficiency.

Warmth seeps through my veins, thick and sluggish.

The world sways, my limbs turning to lead, my head lolling back against the wall.

Sarah’s voice distorts, stretching and warping like sound in a tunnel.

Light flickers, twisting like a funhouse mirror.

My pulse slows.

My eyes roll back.

The darkness swallows me whole.

CHAPTER TEN

Avery

The next thing I know, my head is throbbing—booming—like a ’90s boombox blasting gangster rap at full volume. Each pulse sends a fresh wave of agony through my skull, making me groan. My limbs are sluggish, unwilling to cooperate, my fingers twitching uselessly when I send them orders.

For a long while, I’m practically paralyzed, trapped in my own body, until sensation slowly trickles back—starting with tingling in my toes and spreading upward like static electricity. Relief floods through me because, for a terrifying moment, I thought she’d hit metoohard—thought maybe I’d been permanently paralyzed.

It takes what feels like hours before I have enough strength to sit up, leaning heavily against the wall for support. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth, my throat a barren wasteland.Sahara Desert-level dry.

I’ve been out for a while.

My bladder protests at the same time my stomach growls in hunger, both screaming for attention. I have no way of knowing exactlyhowlong I was unconscious, but my body tells me it’s beentoo long.

I scan the room, eyes locking onto a single water bottle sitting on the desk across the room. It might as well be miles away. The thought of getting up, crossing the space, and reaching for it seemsimpossible.

I take a deep breath, focusing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

With practiced determination, I push myself onto unsteady legs. My knees wobble dangerously, but Imove.Shuffling one foot forward, then another, inching toward salvation.

It takesforever, but I finally reach the desk and grab the bottle, unscrewing the cap with trembling hands.

The water isheaven. Cool, crisp,revitalizingas it soothes my parched throat, bringing back some clarity to my thoughts.

As I relieve myself in the toilet corner, my fingers graze the tender spots on my scalp, each one a painful reminder of the beating I endured. My head pounds relentlessly, a drumbeat of agony that refuses to ease.

How long have I been out this time?

I have no answers but the wounds on my head are beginning to heal.

The TV’s low murmur catches my attention as I make my way back to bed, my legs stronger but still weak. I collapse onto the sheets, half-listening until—

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