That's where the nightmare started.
My heart slams against my ribs, the drug fighting to keep it under control. My vision sharpens for just a moment, the room coming into too-sharp focus.
The mirror. The dress. Maxim's cold smile.
And then the pill wins. My pulse slows, and the panic flattens. My brain fog rolls back in, thick and suffocating.
I exhale as Maxim steps closer, his hand reaching out to adjust the emerald collar. His fingers are like ice on my skin.
"Perfect," he says. "You'll make quite the impression."
I don't respond.
I can't.
The room blurs again.
And then I'm gone.
The courtyard is cold.
Not the biting, cruel cold of Moscow, but the crisp, alive cold of autumn in Romania. The kind that makes your cheeks flush and your breath visible in the air.
I'm running.
My boots pound against the cobblestones, and my lungs burn in the best way. The kind of burn that comes from laughter, from freedom, from being young and carefree.
"Adi!"
I yell his name, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the old school.
He turns around. His dark hair is tousled from the wind, and his dark eyes are focused.
He smiles, that stupid, reckless smile that always makes my stomach flip.
"Te-am prins!" he yells back. "I caught you!"
I collide with him, and he catches me, spinning me around until I'm dizzy and breathless.
"You never run fast enough,” he says, laughing.
"Maybe I want you to catch me,” I say.
He frowns. "What?"
I roll my eyes. “Boys are ridiculous," I say, laughing.
He thinks we are practicing English. I am telling him how I feel.
He picks me up, and I hit him playfully, and he spins me around.
I close my eyes from laughing too hard, and when I open them, he's gone, and I'm back in that van.
There's a needle piercing my skin, and I feel the cold metal floor beneath my cheek. I try to move, but the zip ties won't let me.
I scream his name because it's the only name that means safety.
"Adrian! Adrian!"