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Page 15.
Chapter 9
 Tedda woke, strangling, falling out of bed. She lay on the floor convulsing as she tried to breathe The cold kiss of her manacles, the clatter of her chains like the rattle of an attacking snake, woke her from the pitch black dream in which she had been submerged. She lay on an icy, coated concrete floor, gasping and wriggling desperately like a fish out of water.
She had a brief, fading vision of a knife, and a terrible episode, a handsome man, but the details were no longer clear. At some level, she knew clearly she was being offered an exchange: peace of mind from her terrible past, in exchange for cooperation with the fatherland.
Unable to breathe, she tried to scream. Her choking, heaving motions brought forth what seemed like acres of green water filled with bits of broken leaf, twigs, bird feathers.
Lights came on. Voices shouted. Boots splashing in water ran toward her. As her lungs emptied, she began to take in racking, sobbing breaths. She lay like a crocodile, hands splayed on the floor, and opened her mouth wide in short bursts, snapping it shut, drawing in sweet oxygen.
She took big gulps of warm air, smelling the rubbery finish on the floor under her palms. She could almost kiss the floor, so grateful was she to be alive, though terrified once again: where am I? she wondered.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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