"You ever see that old movie 'Get Out'? It was kind of like that.
I was living in a world of ink. I was sinking deeper with every passing day, with only a tiny pinhole to view what I was doing and saying. Sometimes I didn't even have that. Just the memories. The sensations.
I only got to remember what he wanted me to remember. It was sick. Feeling your body blatantly betray you like that, and not being able to stop it. I was in hell. Sometimes I'm afraid that when I sleep I'll wake up back there."
It had been ages since Joanne had a cigarette. Right now, she would have killed for one.
Maybe if she had a smoke, she would have been able to talk about everything without feeling so weak and pathetic. But she doubted it.
And as she hung her head out the window of Awena's office, she wished she had a cigarette or even a drink to take the edge off.
But there were many reasons why that wasn't going to happen.
"Jo…" Awena began. "I am so-"
