I don't sleep. Every time I'm almost out, Cori whimpers. It's been roughly eight hours according to my internal clock since I was dumped into this room with her. She's running a slight temperature and she threw up bile earlier. We've had no food or water and I had to bring Cori tap water from my hands and cajole her until she drank it. I'm lying on the scratchy mattress without benefit of a sheet. I grimace at the ceiling, which I can see clearly because the light above us never turns ...