It has been a year since Annalise Montgomery lost her fifteen year old sister Lilly in the middle of a sunny day when she was waiting in a parking lot.
Annalise takes the case into her control when the police are empty handed. No leads, no traces, n...
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I've lost count of how many times I've chanted in my head that I will build the strength to fight the sedative and escape my room so I can find wherever they have Reggie Cohen.
Even after an hour or so, I'm unable to move my limbs or shake off the exhaustion. I still can't lift my eyelids all the way. It's a horrible feeling.
Sheriff Walker hasn't said anything else to me. She's sat quietly in the seat and stared around the space until eventually, the door clicks open and two figures move in the room.
"It's about time. Your session ended nearly twenty minutes ago." Natalie stands and stretches her legs. Scott and Halle walk in, the little girl's hand holding onto his fingers. "I have to get back to work. Make sure you walk her back to Talulah."
Halle rushes to my bedside, but the Sheriff stops Blondie from moving. She whispers something to him, speaking far too low for me to hear.
"Are you okay? What happened?" The little girl rushes her questions while she presses her body as close as she can manage to the mattress. Her energy is unmatched for myself.
How am I able to have a conversation with her if I'm not even capable of holding my eyes open all the way? "Just a scratch. I'm fine." That scratch was the beginning of a severed hand- nothing I want to explain to a six year old.
She tries climbing onto the bed where the spare patch is beside me. "Aunt Natalie said you had surgery-"
"Halle, careful. Don't bump her arm." The warning comes from Scott who walks over. He's holding things in his hands- a brown paper baggie and vomit bag in one, then a take away up in the other.
"Sorry." She suddenly turns shy and leans away before she could hug me. I don't miss the look she flashes at the chunky white gauze.
"Hi Lis." The soft voice is Blondie's. He sets the items down on the bedside table where the case once was, and stands behind Halle.
For a moment, many sorts of thoughts and feelings that rush over me. Did he know about Reggie? What is he thinking now? Has he seen the photos?
He presses a gentle kiss on my forehead, directly over where my scar from the crowbar is. It's occurred me that this is the third time in a few months that I've been attacked.
"I bought you a butter pound muffin and green tea. Wasn't sure what terrible things they were going to feed you here." If I could move, I'd be reaching for the tea to build my energy for an escape. "Are you okay?"
I doubt I'm any better than how he looks. Already in the short span of a day or two that I've been here, dark spots are forming under his eyes, his blonde hair is a mess, he's wearing sweat shorts and a plain tee which is very unusual for him, and there's no clinging smell of his cologne.
