Angelica sat in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the entrance outside the window.
She wasn't entirely sure if she could call it a car. It had the shape of the pickup truck, an eyesore of a vehicle, lifted too high, sitting on oversized tires. The color scheme alone was enough to make people turn their heads as it idled by the roadside.
Staying upright was effort enough. Being watched made it worse.
"Are you sure you don't need a hospital?" Lana said from the driver's seat.
Her brows were knitted so tightly they nearly touched, her gaze sweeping over Angelica from head to toe.
Angelica glanced down at her bandaged hands, the fresh white gauze peeking out from the sleeves of the new T-shirt they had scavenged along the way.
She felt like a new person with clean clothes on, but her body hadn't followed. The numbness had finally claimed her hands; they hung like dead weight at the ends of her arms.
