Chapter 91 Gina

The first thing I know is a hand holding mine. It's rough and warm and smells of fish oil and lavender.

"Mam," I croak.

"Hush." My mother's voice is thick. "Hush, my girl. Don't try to talk."

I open my eyes. It's a canopy over my head, a stained one. I know that stain. I know the shape of it,...