Caleb rips the towel from my face. I blink at the sudden assault the bright light has on my eyes. I avert my gaze, not giving him the satisfaction of any kind of communication. But he’s not even looking at me.

He unbuckles Lucie next, and she rolls onto her side, away from us both.

I don’t move my head, but I do follow him with my eyes. He chucks an empty bucket to the side and heads out the door.

The door shuts, and I try to jump to my feet. Gripping the edge of the bed, I close my eyes as my vision blurs and wait for the head rush to pass. Every inch of my body hurts.

One, two, three, four…

I get to eleven before my head stops spinning. I open my eyes.

Lucie hasn’t moved. Her restraints are undone, but she’s lying in the same position as if she hasn’t realized Caleb has released us and left.

“Can you get up?” I ask her. Caleb hasn’t touched her in hours, or what I assume to be hours, so I don’t know why she’s not getting up. She’s had time to physically recover.

“I don’t want to,” she murmurs, staring up at the ceiling. Her red hair has dried, but it’s still stuck closely to her head. It must have been a while since Caleb paid any attention to her for her hair to be bone-dry.

Mine is dripping.

Sniffing, I shove my hair over my shoulders, ignoring how the water seeps lower into the fabric of my top.

“Lucie, please, you need to get up,” I plead. She can’t fall apart right now. We need to go. I need to get back. I have to see Hazel, see something good from my life outside of these walls.

“Go back, Piper. I’m going to see if they’ll let me run.”

My eyes bulge. “No, Lucie! Don’t think like that. Come back with me and sleep on it. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“What’s the point? I won’t feel any different tomorrow. I’ve had enough, Piper. I’m done.”

I grab Lucie’s hand. That’s it. I’ve had enough. She has to get it together! I’m tired, my chest hurts, my throat is raw, and I just need to curl up in bed and be the other version of me.

She needs to get it the hell together long enough to get back in that room where we’ll be locked in and she can’t make any dumb decisions.

“Don’t, Piper,” she says, tugging her arm. But I don’t let go. “Seriously, I—”

“Save it and get up.” I pull, and she swings her legs over the side before she falls off the bed.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

“Good, you’re up. Let’s go.”