DAISY

The heavy glass syringe came down toward my throat. I threw my hands up, my fingers wrapping around Alita’s wrists just inches before the metal needle pierced my skin. The thick, yellowish liquid sloshed inside the glass barrel.

"Get off me!" I grunted, using my elbows to slide myself backward against the pillows.

Alita didn't say a word. She leaned her entire body weight over the bed, pressing the syringe down with both hands. The surgical mask over her face puffed out with her sharp, ragged breaths. The smell of cheap antiseptic and her familiar perfume filled the tight space between us.

My right ankle throbbed with a white-hot...