CHAPTER 11
Who the hell roofied my drink and how much did they give me? Jewel thought to himself as he felt himself waking up. His head was fuzzy like it was stuffed with cotton and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara. And gods, his neck hurt. What the hell happened?
Slowly he blinked his eyes open, but Jewel couldn’t make out much of anything; his sight was all wonky. He was staring at something with a weird shape but couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at. It didn’t help that there was very little light, wherever the heck he was.
Trying to raise his hand to his face to rub his eyes, Jewel hissed softly when the hand wouldn’t move, but a small pinch of pain ran up his arm. He jerked a little harder on the arm, but still nothing happened except that pain wrapped around his wrist
