WILLA
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as my eyes flew open.
White ceilings. That was the first thing my brain registered — the ceiling and the ornate chandelier swimming in and out of focus above me.
Everything was too bright. Too blurry. Too loud. Too painful. Nausea surged fiercely up my throat, bitter and burning.
I groaned, trying to sit up, but strong hands immediately pushed me back down. My body ached against the hard surface I was lying on, every muscle screaming in protest.
"How long do we keep her here?"
"We need her for the trial."
"She is the only one…"
"Keep me here. Trials. Only one." I whispered to myself, the words slurring as I desperately tried to make sense of the voices swirling around me.
Almost immediately, a vicious headache slammed into my skull like a hammer strike.
A soft, broken gasp slipped out as fragmented memories flooded my mind in chaotic, painful flashes.
"The voice," I croaked.
Did it succeed in capturing me?
