Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

I grip the thin hospital sheet until the joints in my fingers scream. Sweat slides down my temples, stinging my eyes. My hair is plastered to my face, heavy and damp, and every breath I try to draw feels as though it is being dragged over broken glass.

“No,” I whisper, the word scraping against my dry throat.

The young nurse beside me—her nametag reads continue reading …