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Do We Have A Plan?
AMANDA RIPPED THE STRAPS FROM HARLOW, her nails slicing at Harlow's skin. Despite the awaiting guard at the door, Harlow bolted out of the chair to escape, only to have her knees buckle beneath her from blood loss.
Dizzy, Harlow crumbled to her hands and knees, finding herself staring at Amanda's perfectly, pointy high-heels. Vomit was crawling its way up her throat, yet Harlow kept swallowing it down- their exhausting tests had made her sick. She breathed in deep breaths, knowing she needed to keep oxygen flowing to her brain to stay awake. One of Amanda's high-heels connected with her forehead, and Harlow released a yelp, falling onto her side. Black spots filtered her vision, and frantically, she blinked them away, flinching at the pain in her head- a headache was inevitable. Harlow watched in frustration, listening to the blaring sirens, as her high-heels lacked against the floor, away from her.
"Grab her!" Amanda sneered, gesturing towards her. The burly guard rus
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