A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 2)

Chapter Twenty-Two (Part 1)

I can't open my eyes. What's wrong with me? Why can't I open my eyes? My head. Holy shit, my head. Why are my eyelids so heavy? My face is wet. Is that blood? Why can I taste blood? I try to force my eyelids open, but they barely even flinch. Connor. Where's Connor? My head. I flicker my eyelids, and they stay open long enough for me to see the shape of someone above me. I groan. My head is going to explode. My eyes have closed, so I force them open again.

"He's waking up!"

What? The figure above me moves out of sight. I try to speak, but it comes out as a nonsensical mumbling sound. I try to move, but I can't even twitch a finger. There are footsteps, and there's a figure above me again, except this one's bigger, and they're reaching down to me, and there's a cloth in my face with a chemical smell, but it's--it's slightly sweet, and I notice it for just a few seconds because then it's gone. Everything's gone again.

This time, when I wake up, I'm buried underneath a feeling of dread so heavy that it suffocates me. Everything is wrong. I'm sitting upright. How am I--My back's against something. I'm leaning against something. It's easier to open my eyes this time, but my vision is still blurred. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness fills my head, and it's extreme. It's too extreme.

I want to die. I'm not exaggerating. I feel like I want to die.

My head. I go to lift my hand to it, but I can't move my arm more than a few inches. There's something cold around my wrist. What the hell? I try to move it again, but something pulls it back. My vision is becoming clearer, and I'm not in Connor's flat anymore.

I'm in an empty room. The floor is wooden, and its planks are jagged and chipped. Everything's so dark. There's a faint light filtering through the doorway at the far end of the room, but it's dark. I desperately try to grasp at a memory, a good one, one of Mum, or Dad, or Annabel, just--just anything, but everything is so dark. All I can see is darkness.

I want to be dead.

I lift my other arm, and it's free. I can move it. I try to look down as I move my free hand to touch my other arm, but the second I crane my neck even a millimeter, searing pain explodes in my forehead. There's nothing I can do. I'm stuck. Why am I even bothering? Everything is wrong.

"Don't waste your energy," a voice mutters from somewhere near, and Connor appears in the doorway. "They're solid steal."

What the hell is this maniac talking about? I yank my trapped arm again, and he rolls his eyes. My vision is practically back to normal now. It makes me flinch, but I muster the energy to move my head. I look at my arm to see a metal ring around my wrist, and it finally dawns on me. He's handcuffed my wrist to... to something. I shift my eyes further left. A radiator. He's handcuffed me to a radiator. He's a psychopath. This guy is a literal psychopath.

I yank again, but it's pointless. All of this is pointless. Why am I even trying? I'm never going to get out of here. The darkness in my mind weighs my entire body down. Why doesn't he just kill me?

"Annabel will find me. She can find my energy anywhere, you do realise that?" I try to snap at Connor, but it just comes out flat.

Connor bursts out laughing as he saunters over to me. "You're so clueless. It's cute. I'm not trying to be an arse, honestly, it's genuinely quite sweet." He smiles, and there's a twisted sincerity to it. "She couldn't step foot in this place if she wanted to."

What? What's he talking about? My confusion must be obvious because Connor bends down to my level, his face inches away from mine, and goes on to explain. I don't know why because I should, but I don't care about what he has to say. I don't care about anything. What's the point? I wish he'd just left me to die on his living room floor.