“Your eyes remind me of her,” he spat.
Seeing him, eye-to-eye, gave Paige renewed energy, renewed disgust. She clutched the man by his neck, bent her knees and kicked him in the ribs. He shot to his feet, bringing his strangulation weapon with him. He stumbled out of sight, into the darkness. Paige clambered up, following him. There was no time to search for her gun. Her fists would have to do the fighting.
Following him through the door, she fell into another black pit. She rested against the wall while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, then the searing pain came again. Paige felt like she was plummeting into the abyss, deep down a hundred miles below ground level. A gaping maw waited at the bottom, rows of jagged teeth, a giant mouth consuming her whole.
She couldn’t think or hear or comprehend reality. She tried moving her hands, but her body couldn’t determine which direction was up and which was down.
A light came on overhead. She was in a garage. Another gray, concrete block.
The man dragged her along the ground, scraping the first few layers of skin off her back. She fixated her gaze on the ceiling, lights flickering, not sure if it was her imagination or tripping electricity.
Then Paige saw the table of surgical tools and let out a silent scream.
“You’re number five,” the man said, moving to the pile.