63. Slow Death

Cassandra jerked awake, when freezing water slammed against her face, knocking the breath out of her. She inhaled sharply, instinctively pulled at her hands to find out she couldn’t move them. Her eyes adjusted to the light and among the icy droplets that dripped from her hair, she made out the dark shape looming over her, her heart pounding in her chest.

When her vision cleared, she impassively gazed at Charles. She exhaled slowly, shaking her hands to test out the cable ties which were locked around her wrists onto the arms of a metal chair. Too strong. Her feet were also locked together. She eyed the room, realizing that she was still in her clinic, in her laboratory.

“It’s futile to resist, doctor.” She frowned at him, “What do you want from me?” He raised the post-it note, shifting through the small pages. He gazed at it, muttered something under his breath and slid it back in his pocket. He approached her, raising his hand to caress the area near her temple, noting the injury ma