MAYA'S POV

Stone scrapes my cheek as I'm dragged out of the office. I take huge puffs of air into my system, straining my eyes to see through the darkness. I can't hear voices or feel any movements. I stretch my weak hands to the wall, trying to lift myself up, but my tired legs rebel. My head is pounding. I need my energy sleep.

I want to cry. I hate this fucking place. I hate myself for fighting back too late, but what difference would it have even made?

I don't know how much time has ...