*Vanessa*
I have less than half an hour to myself before the door opens one last time.
Ramona slinks in, a sickening grin on her face that I know can’t possibly be a good sign. My gut instinct tells me to be on edge, and I scoot further up the bed, trying to shift into a position that leaves me with some kind of leverage.
I want to wait until she’s near enough before I attempt to shift again, to optimize my chances of defending myself successfully if I need to. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I’ve begun to sweat. There’s something sinister in the silence between us, an almost comical horror lurking in everything not being said. It’s like she’s toying with me.
My thoughts quickly race to recall what would happen if I was forced to defend myself. What if she tried something and my only chance at survival was to shift and injure her? Or worse. Was I really capable of worse?