I finish up in the bathroom and make my way toward a bed opposite the ones claimed. I don’t have much energy left, but I need to get to the top bunk. My legs are weak, my body still adjusting to the drastic changes in temperature, and my head throbbing with a headache. I pull myself up, gritting my teeth as my muscles strain in protest, and slump down on the mattress.

Hazel is in the bed below mine. She doesn’t say a word or even move, so I assume she’s found sleep.

Curling the quilt around me, effectively making a cocoon, I close my eyes and wait.

I can see the white walls of the torture room, and my body feels red-hot. I flick my eyes open again. Okay, so Priya might be right about not being able to sleep. The image of that room needs to leave.

Think about something else. Justin Bieber. Liam Hemsworth. Becoming a super-successful detective and putting men like Caleb behind bars.

I’ve always been curious about people who turn to crime. I love getting a glimpse into the minds of the most infamous murderers. When I’m out of here and finished with school, that’s what I’m going to concentrate on.

One day I’ll be catching guys like Caleb, Owen, and Matt.

I just have to survive them right now.

I close my eyes again, repeating in my head how I’ll win. This time, I don’t see the room. I clutch the quilt, holding onto something real, something that grounds me to this room. I’m here, not back in there. I’m still cool but warming up. My body won’t get too hot this time.

As I’m drifting, soft music fills the air. I want to listen, to place it because I don’t recognize the song, but my eyes are too heavy, and my mind is drifting.

You’ve got this, keep breathing.

With a long exhale, I let my body loosen, my muscles relax, and I sink deeper into the mattress.

I will win.

13

My body jerks, and I wake with a start. I’m too hot, the quilt stuck to my body, creating an oven effect. Kicking my legs, I manage to untangle myself.

Where am I?

My lungs burn with the lack of oxygen as panic overrides my normal bodily functions. When I’m free, I leap out of bed, barely using the ladder, and grip the side of the bunk, my nails digging into the wood.

Oh God, I’m still here.

I draw in a deep breath and then force it out.

You’re not too hot or too cold. You’re fine.

My clothes cling to my sweaty body. I didn’t shower last night because I was exhausted, but I need one now. I think I only got about three hours of sleep, but I can’t lie there anymore.