FIFTY-NINE

The Wounded

“Wakey-wakey, sunshine.”

Lolita gasped, dragged back to the surface by the water splashed on her face. She was soaked, everywhere. For days now, she couldn’t even stand on her feet. Now she could see; now she could feel, even if it was only little and mostly engualfed with her pains and torture.

Tessa was grinning down at her. They were still in the dark room with the single ray of sunlight shining through. She’d been dreaming, she realized; of flowers and ice cream and a warm bath.

“Say hi to Dr. Banners,” Tessa sang.

Lolita’s eyes moved slowly to the man standing beside her. She could barely see his face, but his beady little eyes and his fat figure gave her the chills. She hugged herself, trying to pull away from them.

“Now, now, don’t do that,” the doctor said.

Tessa took that initiative to smack her on the face, forcing Lolita to release her knees and fall back on the ground. She giggled wildly when this happened, almost dancing at the pleasure Lolita’s tears brought