“What makes for a safe birth? Knowledge and equipment. Technically, no equipment is necessary in most situations. Heck, knowledge isn’t even a must. People give birth at unexpected times often, or they used to.”
“But you’re saying you have both knowledge and equipment?”
“The best.” He pushes a cup over to me. “Drink. I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”
“Will I at least have friends? You know…when we go.”
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Contemplatively, when he’s always so sure of himself. I take a few bites of bread, but he slides the drink in front of me again.
“You look pale. You need to drink more.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed that I’m being babied, but I drink because I know he’s worried about me.
It’s good to feel cared for.
“Look, I’m not arguing with you about your torture methods. That guy could have called the dead to countless people before me. He deserved what he got. But we need to discuss your…your…your…”
I’m tired. So tired. The room seems to slant, like cheap furniture.
Gage presses the cup into my hand. “Drink.”
I obey, sloshing the beverage onto my shirt.
I blink a dozen times. I’m confused. I’m—
“What did you put in this?” I ask, dropping the cup to the floor.
I hear it shatter, but everything is foggy, so I can’t see it. Just blurs.
“It’s okay,” a voice like sandpaper says.
Is that Gage? Did Gage do this?
Everything’s dark. So dark. I struggle to grasp a thought, a shred of sanity.
I fall…
* * *