JACKSON
I sighed, leaning my head on the damp and moldy wall of the cell. I expected everything from life but that: getting thrown into a dungeon in Connecticut for a crime I didn’t even know I committed until twelve hours before.
At the mere thought of it, I felt my guts rearrange themselves – and I barely made it in time to the east corner before puking out whatever little I had left in my stomach. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I let them fall – I didn’t have the strength to do otherwise.
It was all clear, now: now, I knew why Meg had looked so shocked and scared, that morning of four years ago, when she’d found me in Mylah’s bed. I knew why she’d run away, rejecting my touch – I knew why she hadn’t even uttered a word to me at the hospital. I knew why she’d escaped, willing to risk
