I hesitate.
Then hunger takes over.
I’m at the table before I know it, sitting down fast, grabbing the utensils. My hands shake as I cut into the food and bring it to my mouth. The first bite makes me dizzy.
I eat. She watches me the whole time.
Not unkindly.
Not cruelly.
Just… as if this is normal.
As if I belong here.
When I finish, I set the fork down and sit back slowly. My stomach is full for the first time in days. My body is tired.
She smiles at me like she’s proud.
“Time for your nap.”
I blink. “What?”
“It’s time to rest, child,” she says, smoothing a wrinkle from the tablecloth.
Then I hear them.
Footsteps again.
I turn my head and see them step through the door—two guards in black, both broad and silent and already moving toward me.
I stand up so fast the chair screeches back.
“What’s going on?” I say, voice rising. “What the hell is this?”
Neither of them speak.
They reach me fast. One grips my upper arm, hard. The other moves to block the door.
I yank back. “Let go of me!”
The one behind me hooks both my wrists in one hand and pulls them behind my back. I twist, trying to break free. I scream.
The woman doesn’t move.
She walks toward me with something in her hand.
A syringe.
I freeze.
“No. No—what is that? Don’t—” My voice congeals in my throat.
The needle glints in the light.
“Please,” I beg, tears spilling now. “Don’t. Don’t put that in me, please—”
The guards tighten their grip. One presses my head down toward the table.