Chapter 113. The Devil You Trust

"Baby, dinner’s ready. Let’s eat together while it’s still hot."

Rosie’s voice echoed in the cavernous silence of Eddie’s mind, a fragment of a dream that was already dissolving like salt in water. He tried to reach for her, to catch the hem of the floral dress she always wore in his favorite memories, but his arms felt like leaden weights. There was a sharp pressure against his wrists, a coldness that didn't belong in the sun-drenched kitchen of his fantasies.

He opened his eyes, and the smell of brewing coffee and the sweet, floral scent of her skin faded into that of air freshener and antiseptic.

His body felt wrong. His body felt wrong, and his limbs felt as if they had been filled with wet sand. Even his tongue felt thick and numb in his mouth, as if it had been replaced by a piece of heavy wool.

Panic flared instantly, slicing through the fog in his head as he remembered the last thing that had happened before he passed out.

Edward sque