DAISY

The white ceiling tiles were the first things I saw when my eyes opened. A steady, rhythmic beep sounded to my right, coming from a heart monitor hooked to my hand.

The air in the room smelled heavily of bleach and rubbing alcohol. I tried to shift my weight, but a sharp, burning pain shot through my right ankle, forcing me to freeze.

Memory came back in rapid fragments. The upstate estate. The open grave of the real Alita. The flashing lights of the state police cruisers as they took Alita away in handcuffs. Brian had brought me straight to this private medical facility right after the arrest to...