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Genna stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, and her knees slightly bent. She let her arms hang by her sides, pulling her head up so that her shoulders were straight. And she took in a breath.
She let it sink in deep, feeling the air passing down her throat and into her lungs. She followed the sensation, mentally viewing her legs and the rest of her body.
So much hurt.
If she lay down, the hurt was everywhere, as if it were being carried by her blood. But that was a lie. That was the voice of the pain crying out, making its presence felt. She knew that there was a point at which each yell started, and she needed to battle through the overflow of agony to find those origins.
And so she focused. She felt the sharpness to her left side, and could picture the stain of multi-
