Even when I was not actively taking the drugs, the lingering effects left me dazed, often absent-minded and sometimes plagued by hallucinations.
In frustration, Damien kicked me again and barked at the mentor, "Where are they most likely to be? Search every inch of this place and find them!"
He twisted my arms behind my back and forced me to search for my daughter.
I stumbled aimlessly, unsure of where to go.
Relying purely on instinct, I wandered to my residence. This was the place where I had slept and been imprisoned for the past six months.
The moment I stepped inside, a flood of terrible memories engulfed me.
I looked around fearfully, then hurried toward the closet and whispered nervously, "Be good, hide well, don't come out and don't make a sound."
Damien shoved me aside roughly and stormed toward the closet.
He shouted harshly, "Elise Montclair! Are you hiding in there?"
In his rage, he yanked the closet doors open so violently that the entire structure nearly toppled over.
But as the doors swung wide, Damien froze. Visibly startled, he took a step back.
The closet was empty.
In the center, a small two-inch photo of my daughter sat quietly.