Page 152 of Blood & Snow
I sit with my back against the wall, my knees drawn to my chest, and I cannot stop shivering.
The stockroom stinks—a fermented yeasty scent that makes me wretch over its sweet hints.
Sacks of grain are stacked in the corner.
Empty crates sit against the far wall.
A single bulb hangs from the ceiling, seeping weak yellow light that does nothing to warm the space.
The door is steel, locked from the outside.
I heard the bolt slide shut hours ago.
Or maybe it was minutes.
I don't know anymore.
My stomach churns again.
I lean to the side and vomit onto the floor.
Nothing comes up but thin , acidic bile.
I don't even bother looking for a place to vomit other than the floor.
There's no point.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and close my eyes.
The nausea doesn’t fade.
It rolls through me in cruel agonizing waves.
I'm so tired.
Every part of me aches.
My wrists are rawfrom the zip ties they used when they dragged me from the warehouse.
My jaw throbs where one of them hit me.
My head pounds with a dull, steady pain that won’t go away.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Time blurs when there are no windows, no clock, no way to tell if it is day or night.
My body clock says I should've slept long ago but every time I try to shut my eyes I see their faces and hear voices, though I'm not sure if they're real or imagined.
The men who took me are animals.
I learned that within the first hour.
They came for me in the middle of my job and brought me here.
Wherever here is.
The van drove for a long time, winding through streets I couldn't see.
