đđđđđđÂ
The ache was bone-deep, my muscles throbbing. Strangely, I found myself unafraid because I could feel the flesh of my torn throat knitting and mending. With every ebb of my sore muscles, the pain dissipated, one beat at a time. My simmering marrow cooled with every breath. The Core was healing me.
âStill, I knew that I would be haunted by what I had witnessed and experienced. The hazardous state of a pack house, the bodies, the carnage, and the strange woman who seemed to recognize meâyet called me by another name. Something I could only presume was a serial number. Forgetting the letters and numbers was not a risk; they had been etched into my psyche just like the rest of the day's events.
âCheese whined where he rested beneath my calm, reminding me that he was here for me. I smiled, even if it elicited odd flashes of pain. I wished I could tell him, "I know."
