CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Lana.

"You know you have to eat something to be able to tale your drugs, Miss. Sullivan." The old woman whose name I don't care to find out or give an honest flipping fuck about nags me again for the umpteenth time. I've already told her countless times to just address me as Alain, or Lana even, anything but the dredged Miss. Sullivan she insists on calling me, but the woman seems even more hardheaded than her imposing boss.

The nerve of that conniving asshole to keep me locked up in here for two days. Two days that may as well be weeks with how slowly they've been going, and it doesn't help that the only way I have to show my defiance is by going on a hunger strike.