"Where were you born?"
I say nothing, staring blankly at the ugly ceiling. I awoke a few minutes ago, and Elijah Coleman has been trying to get me to converse with him.
"I looked into you. Sinclair pulled an impressive amount of strings to get you an identity. A false one. It tickled my curiousity. Sinclair is right about the most selfish man I know."
I blink, moving my head left and right to dispel the last remnants of dizziness. The colours seem overly bright, and my bones feel weary.
He suddenly crouches in front of me and reaches for my hair. He tucks it behind my ear and I hate that I can't move. I want nothing more than to slam his face into the wall. Claw out his eyes too while I'm at it.
But I can't f*****g lift a finger.
That is what scares me. Human drugs should have no eff
