Page 26 of Tormented

I give in, submit to my devil’s whim, and let go of the ropes tethering me to the shore of sanity. The flash of concern in Mighty’s eyes as I flip the switch fuels me. As does the worry in Callum’s voice as he hollers something to Dog. But I pay no mind.

Fists fly, I make ten yards, and then I’m brought to ground again.

The process repeats over and over, Mighty growing tired the longer I keep up the fight.

I’m close, so fucking close to making it off this compound and walking, hitching, or goddamn running to my old man’s house if I have to, when a sharp prick in my leg has me frowning with confusion.

“What did you . . .?”

Fuzzy. Those fuckers go fuzzy as hell, blending into one, spreading out to four, and settling on the clearly defined outline of two. Mighty and . . . be easier if the fucker wasn’t so blurry . . . there it is . . . Dog.

With a motherfuckin’ syringe jammed in my thigh.

“Nighty-night, big boy.”