Just like every day, Saint woke up before dawn broke.
However, she did not feel refreshed and well-rested, like she usually would. Instead, she felt tired, dazed, and hurting all over.
That was because she did not wake up in her comfortable, state-of-the-art orthopedic bed. Instead, she woke up on the hard surface of a church bench. Her luxurious cotton percale bedding was nowhere to be seen, either, replaced by a single dusty sheet of cheap and coarse fabric… naturally, her carefully selected pillow was also gone, supplanted by a rolled-up trench coat.
She had even slept in her clothes.
…And only for a few hours.
'Unacceptable.'
Trying her best not to feel indignant, Saint sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
'Ouch.'
Her bruised body hurt. The cuts on her fingers stung, as well — the handkerchief wrapped around them had turned brown from blood and was sticking unpleasantly to her skin.
She was dirty, disheveled, and… grumpy. She felt disgusting.
