Chapter 44

Well, this was not what I'd planned at all.

I sat behind a graffitied table in a small interview room that reeked of sweat and desperation, some of which was mine. My body was rebelling against me because I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. Weird spasms twitched my nerves, my feet burned as if I'd slipped hot coals into my boots, and my stomach felt like I'd plunged forty knives into it and then drank a gallon of lemonade. Speaking of, I had to pee something awful. That bucket of coffee I'd had was now making me swim up to my eyeballs in yellow.

A one-way mirror hung on the wall to my right, and I avoided my reflection at all cost. The last time I'd looked, my complexion had gone white as death, and a sickly sheen of sweat made me look as if I'd greased myself in butter. Yellow, melted butter. I crossed my legs even tighter and willed myself not to piss the chair.