I had been having the most horrible nightmares. It was hard to sleep but even harder to stay awake, and now I was kind of just floating through the day. Caleb seemed hurt by my distance, but it was so hard to make myself talk when it felt like my head was stuffed with wool and my throat was raw from screams I didn't remember. My eyelids were always heavy and I wanted to go to sleep, but the second I closed my eyes, I would remember what I had seen.
I would remember Gareth's Companion lashing her tail in agitation, the empty syringes littering the ground with traces of a viscous black substance remaining in them, and his arm. Oh god. The flesh writhing like a living creature around the end of the needle, tendons and muscle gaping over mangled and cracked bones. For once he had taken his gloves off, and I could see that his fingers were white and stiff and dead-looking, almost like they had been turned into marble.
I didn't want to see it, but it almost like the image was burned into the back of my eyelids.
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