"Haah!"
Emily jerked upright in the bed, gasping for breath as she broke out of her sleep.
Cold sweat soaked the collar of her shirt and clung to her forehead. Her right hand shot reflexively to her chest, her fingers bunching the fabric over her racing heart. A strange, phantom ache flared across her torso, radiating down her arms and legs in sharp, sickening pulses.
She had felt dull aches over the past few days, but she had assumed they were only the lingering aftereffects of three months spent locked in that cold, damp basement, the isolation, the starvation, the slow unraveling of her body without stabilization.
This, however, was different.
This felt raw. It felt active.
And beneath the rush of blood in her ears, she thought she had heard a voice.
"R…Ryan…" she whispered into the dim room.
Was it just a dream?
