Freedom IX

The next two days take them further up the coast and into the wooded areas that signify his childhood. 

“Do you think they’re done with us yet?” He touched the bandage where the doctor sutured his wounds and flicked in pain. 

“That should have healed by now, she noted. I’ll change the dressing tonight.” 

When it was exposed, she tried to hide her shock. 

“Is it infected?” 

“Not exactly.” She ghosted her finger over the puffy purplish wound. A wave of pain shot into her hand as she accidentally contacted it. “You asked me when they’ll be done with us. Look.” 

He twisted his head toward the blistered skin. “Damn. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted him.” 

“That only means,” she said in an even tone, “that we’ll have to make the most out of our freedom. We’re dying, Aidan.” 

“You used my name.” 

“Why pretend?” 

“I love you, Tasha.” 

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