She’s disoriented on a lopsided bed, her right wrist handcuffed to the wooden headboard. Her damp hair is tangled with ribbons, her eyes swollen from crying. I latch the lock on the door and rush over. “Luna?” I press a knee to the mattress, and I touch her splotchy, tear-streaked cheeks. Luna. What’d they fucking do?! “Donnelly.” Her voice shatters, overwhelmed tears slipping out. She’s intaking the sight of me like I’m just fiction inside her head. “Donnelly.” “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.” Her tears roll over my hands, and her surge of relief rattles her body.
