It may have been the first time Martin had seen his wife in over three months, but as she turned to face him he did not run to her. Partly because he had never seen her look at him in that way – her stare distant, an unnerving edge to her expression – but mainly because he thought the burly men twisting his arms behind his back might snap them
When he woke up, Liam couldn’t move. He could remember nothing from before he fell unconscious, nothing other than the smell of sweat and a large figure standing over him. It took him a moment to regain all his senses, but when he did he began to panic. He was laid naked, face-down on a black PVC floor in a room so dark that he could not see the walls.
She couldn’t remember how long she had been there. She couldn’t remember how she had got there. She couldn’t even remember where there was. Instead, the programming process had stripped her of everything. Every memory, every aspiration, every thought of home. If somebody had asked her where she had grown up, she would not have been able to tell them. She wouldn’t have even been able to tell them her
Consciousness came slowly to her, and with it a sense of sudden dread. Something was very wrong, she could feel it in her gut, but at first she could not pinpoint what it was. As the drugs in her system wore off, her mind cleared and clarity flooded her system. Her first instinct was to run. It seemed to be a leftover reaction, as though it was the last thing
