My eyes snap open.
I rise, a paroxysm of pain sears through my left-side, ensued by aches stitching along my spine. The result of sleeping on sheer rock. The cave I'm in is narrow and quadrilateral with a thin draping at the entrance as a door. My saddlebag and belongings are shoved in the corner.
With the first splinter of light and consciousness, my mind torments me with a phalanx of harrowing memories, each a violent wrench that slices into soul and spirit. I feel the guilt like a poison inside of me, festering. I scramble out of my bedroll as I peel off the night garment, my breasts wrapped tightly in cloth. I shuffle to my baggage to retrieve my corsage, essentially a leather vest with a built-in corset but with far less potential of damaging my organs.
