Jessica's POV
My eyes fluttered open to an alien ceiling hovering above me. A metallic taste coated my tongue, and my skull felt like it weighed a thousand pounds against the pillow beneath me.
Whatever cocktail of drugs Bailey had pumped into my system packed a serious punch.
I attempted to push myself upright, my limbs feeling like they were made of lead, but I managed to prop myself up on my elbow. That's when I discovered my left wrist wouldn't budge.
My gaze traveled down to find cold metal encircling my wrist, chains connecting me to the bed frame.
"Son of a bitch," I rasped, my throat raw and scratchy.
The room around me was compact and sterile, but dust particles danced in the afternoon light streaming through a single window. Nobody had occupied this space in weeks, maybe months. And that psychotic bastard Bailey was conspicuously absent.
I let my head fall back against the headboard, my eyelids sliding shut.
