|| Josh ||
His heart is pounding when he wakes up. His mother's voice is in his head once again, telling him not to, telling him to be brave, to fight, to resist.
He can't. He's weak.
They bustle around Josh, all in their brilliant white lab coats. He stands, dazed, among it all: the shining, shoe-squeaking tiles, the fluorescent bar lights above him. He doesn't remember much about last night; only that they brought him to a small room that smelled of antiseptic, stripped him of his filthy, mangled clothes, and dunked him in a bath for the revolting odour to go away; his head had almost dropped into the water. Only after a powdery, lukewarm Pot Noodle was he allowed to sleep, surrounded by the faint beeping of machines.
He catches a glimpse of himself in the glass door opposite. It leads down a hallway, one which he knows he'll be going down very soon.
The deep circles under his eyes are prominent, bringing out, he thinks ironically, the brownness of his iris colour. His darkish-brownish hair looks cleaner than last night, but he cannot look away or forget the zombie-stare or the slumped shoulders.
They walk him down the hallway. His equipment, made of metal, hard and cold, rests in his back pocket. It will be fired in less than twelve hours.
He is not ready.
Gosh, what is he going to do?
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Winter Went | #2 Winter Series
FantasyTHE SECOND BOOK IN THE WINTER HAS COME SERIES! Amelia Harris is trapped. As the prison cell taunts her and the cuffs rub her wrists raw, only her memories are still alive. The face of a boy with chocolate eyes still haunts her dreams. A few kilomet...
