My mind was a haze.
One moment I was being dragged into a steaming bath, hands forcing me down onto the cold marble seat.
The next, rough cloths scraped across my skin, scrubbing so hard it felt as if they wanted to peel me raw. Scents of herbs and oils swirled in the air: lavender, sage, something bitter and metallic beneath it.
My head swam. Heavy, too heavy.
Water poured over me in endless waves. I coughed and sputtered as it soaked my hair, ran into my eyes.
My limbs felt sluggish, boneless, as though the strength had been drained right out of me. I tried to push the women away, but my arms moved like lead, my fingers too weak to curl into fists.
There was something in the water. I was sure of it.
Something that dulled my mind, that made my thoughts slow and blurred, my body limp and uncooperative.
When they lifted me out, my legs barely carried me.
I stumbled, half-dragged, as they clothed me again but not in anything that resembled my dress.
