One week later:
Adele could no longer remember what warmth felt like.
She remembered the feeling of sunlight on her skin, and the warmth of her bed, but those memories felt distant now.
Almost like something that had happened to someone else.
Her body lay curled on the frozen ground, with her knees drawn towards her chest. The chains around her wrists and ankles had become painfully cold against her skin. Every slight movement made them scrape against her already bruised flesh.
She tried to move her fingers, but nothing happened.
Adele stared at her hands.
They were swollen, stiff and discoloured. Her fingers looked unfamiliar, their tips a deep reddish-purple beneath the frost clinging to them.
She tried curling them into her palms.
A sharp, terrible ache travelled up her arms.
A small whimper escaped her.
