Page 47 of Inside the Sun

One thing catches my attention: Summer’s cuffs are lined with some kind of soft padding.

Then he does the same to me, though it takes more effort since I’m not exactly cooperative. The difference is, my cuffs aren’t padded. So when I’m hanging, I feel the metal bite straight into my skin.

Anzo steps back and surveys us, clearly pleased.

"I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a bit. Get to know each other. Maybe Summer will share some secrets that might be useful to you. Because once I’m bored with you, pet… well, that ending’s not gonna be in your favor."

Then he turns and leaves.

The door slams shut. His footsteps echo… and fade into silence.

Only after that do I let out a pathetic gasp, tears welling in my eyes. The adrenaline’s so high in my blood, it probably replaced half of it. I jerk and struggle, moaning, groaning, sobbing.

"Please tell me there’s some kind of chance we can escape," I finally choke out toward my fellow hanging buddy.

But Summer stays quiet.

"One that doesn’t involve my whole family getting slaughtered?"

Still nothing.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I know, no matter what I do, even if I run, even if I make it out, his revenge will fall onthem.

Feeling the pain in my arms surge higher and higher, I finally whisper,

"Then tell me how you do it. How do you keep from reacting?"

No response. Summer just closes his eyes. Oh well. If I were him, I wouldn’t answer either. I could be a plant, a fake, sent by Anzo to squeeze the secret out of him.

So I don’t even blame him. But it doesn’t change the fact that every passing minute is torture.

Quite soon, the initial pain turns into something way worse. At first, I stupidly thought that if I just fully relaxed my body, I could hang here for hours. That illusion lasted maybe a minute. Then my body set me straight.

It feels super heavy, like molten lead is being poured into my limbs. I don’t even know how that’s possible. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I feel worse and worse by the minute. Panic starts creeping in harder.

If anyone thinks you can just hang by your wrists and somehow relax, they have no fucking idea what they’re talking about.

My arms, raised above my head, start going numb. The blood can’t get through. The tingling shifts to burning. The cuffs dig deeper into my wrists with every passing moment, like they’re tightening on their own. I try flexing my fingers, shifting my weight, grabbing the chain. Useless. I’m not in control ofanything.

Then the pain spreads into my shoulders, stabbing deep into tendons. At the beginning it’s just pressure, like after a long day at the gym, but then it’s more than that. Twisting. Wrenching. Like my joints are being slowly dislocated. My own body feels foreign. Heavy. Impossible to bear.

Time stops meaning anything. Minutes stretch out like whole goddamn hours. I feel every one, endless. Each breath gets harder, like the air has to squeeze through a straw.

The pain mixes with frustration. I can’t ease a single fucking part of myself. And it’s justhanging, for fuck's sake! That’s it. Nothing else. Not a sick torture of sticking needles under my nails.

Nope. Anzo doesn't need it, because this is super effective anyway.

Everything inside me is screaming that it’s too much. That I can’t fucking take it.

Eventually, I tilt my head to the side, straining to look at Summer. And what I see stuns me.

His face: totally calm. My gaze moves upward to his arms. They’re not even tense. How the fuck?

His position looks just like mine. But there’s no strain in him at all. It’s like he’s not hanging. Like he’s juststandingthere.

"Fuck," I groan. "It hurts. God, it hurts so fucking bad."

Summer doesn’t answer.

---