Читать книгу Dead Man’s Daughter - Roz Watkins, Roz Watkins - Страница 8

Prologue

She lay on her back, hard metal under her, so cold it felt like being punched. The smell of antiseptic scorched her throat. She couldn’t move.

She tried to scream. To tell them not to do it. She was still alive, still conscious, still feeling. It shouldn’t be happening. But no sound came.

The man had a knife. He was approaching with a knife. Silver glinted in the cold light. Why could she still see? This was wrong.

With all her will, she tried to shrink from him. He took a step closer.

Another man stood by. Dressed in green. Calm. They were all calm. How could they be so calm? She must be crying, tears streaming down her face, even if her voice and her legs and her arms wouldn’t work.

Please, please, please don’t. Inside her head she was begging. Please stop. I can feel. I’m still here. I’m still me. No words came out.

The terror filled her; filled the room.

The knife came closer. She couldn’t move. It was happening.

The touch of steel on her skin. Finally a scream.

One of the men placed his hand on her mouth.

The other man pushed towards her heart.