November 20th, 2007

A Pocket Full of Murder

Teaser Tuesday

Like olmue, I always forget about Teaser Tuesday until I see other people's posts and then it's over. But since I have spent the last three days wringing the beginning of Chapter Eight out of my bleeding fingers one syllable at a time, this is a good chance to remind myself that I am making progress, however slowly. So here it is:
"What happened?" asked Faraday.

My head still felt thick from the drugs they'd given me, every word like a lead weight on my tongue. I kept my eyes fixed on the pitted surface of the table, and said nothing.

"Alison." His voice was low, imploring. "I want to help. But I need to know what's going on."

Where was I supposed to begin, I wondered. The minutes I'd spent unconscious, hanging limp between the nurses as they dragged me outside into the snow? I hadn't been able to move or speak, but I'd felt the cold biting through my jeans and light sweater, heard the murmurs of the other patients as they shuffled aside to make room for me. Somewhere in the distance Kirk was yelling, but the words slurred together in my ears. It had felt like forever before the fire alarm stopped and the nurses carried me inside again.

"I know they sedated you," Faraday said, "and I know they put you in isolation. You've had a terrible few days, and I don't blame you for not wanting to talk about it. But if we're going to get you out of here --"

"I'm never getting out," I said in a flat voice. "Not now."

Faraday was silent a moment. Then he said, "I understand what it's like to feel hopeless. Believe me, I do. But I also know that I can help you, if you'll only give me the chance."

I pressed my clenched fists against my forehead, feeling another migraine gathering inside my skull. "You can't help," I said. "Nobody can."

Wow, that was cheering, wasn't it? Excuse me while I put on some Joy Division just to lighten the mood.