Chapter 1:34 Wrong Channel, Xoxo Nyx

Chapter 1:34 Wrong Channel, Xoxo Nyx

“Where are we going?” I try to control the shake in my voice, but even if I’m able to cart Jonathan along like a rucksack, I'm as stable as a tub of half-baked wacky taffy.

“Nic’s,” Georgianna pants retearing every healed part of my hand as she drags me through the streets. I want to apologize. Want to say the thousand things swirling around in my head, but it's still too soon. Too close to the very real danger we are in.

That I put her in, and somehow our situations reverse as she pushes the three of us through the glas door of the fanciest buildings I’ve ever seen.

I'm back to the broken crying bird so full of self loathing.

Every part of me is raw, paranoid, and flat out spastic by the time we sit at a bar top. Jonathan is still out cold, and I have to wonder what kind of eatery is not packed at midday. Well, maybe it’s late afternoon.

That lull most restaurants get between lunch and dinner.

If this place even serves dinner.