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The room was familiar, but that brought little comfort to Paskia. The chair, one of two placed either side of the table, was high-backed and cushioned, and her feet reached the floor with ease. Paskia shuffled. She wanted to pace, but they’d told her to sit and wait.
She had woken in this room, on the small cot over by the wall, her body stiff and her shoulder sore. She rubbed it, remembering the cold sensation of the injection. When she attempted to rise, swinging her legs to the ground and bringing her body up, the whole room had spun, and she needed to close her eyes for a moment until the nausea dissipated.
After a few minutes she was able to open them again and take in her surroundings. The room was small. Apart from the cot with its thin mattress, there was a table and tw
