Skinned
THE FIRST DAY
"As last days go, mine sucked."
Lia Kahn is dead.
I am Lia Kahn.
Therefore -- because this is a logic problem even a dim-witted child could solve -- I am dead.
Except here's the thing: I'm not.
"Don't panic."
It was my father's voice.
It was -- and it wasn't. It sounded wrong. Muffled and tinny, but somehow, at the same time, too clear and too precise.
There was no pain.
But I knew -- before I knew anything else -- I knew there should have been.
Something pried open my eyes. The world was a kaleidoscope, shapes and colors spinning without pattern, without sense until, without warning, my eyes closed again, and there was nothing. No pain, no sensation, no sense of whether I was lying down or standing up. It wasn't that I couldn't move my legs. It wasn't even that I couldn't feel my legs. It was that, with my eyes closed, I couldn't have said whether I had legs or not.
Or arms.
Or anything.
I think, therefore I am, I thought with a wave of giddiness. I would have giggled, but I couldn't feel my mouth.
I panicked.
Paralyzed.
There had be ... read full excerpt from: Skinned ebook
