Chapter 9. Motivation from a hot milf
I felt a warm hand gently graze my forehead, followed by the soft patter of warm droplets falling onto my face. My eyes squeezed shut before snapping open, and I came face to face with my sister, Sharon, silently crying. When she saw me awake, her eyes brightened, though just a little.
I felt a sharp pain shoot through my head, and my joints ached even worse.
"Hey..." I muttered with a weak voice.
"Finally awake, you idiot! I thought you were a goner," she huffed, wiping her tears away. "You've been unconscious for three whole days after spending two in prison."
"What?" I blurted out in shock. "I've been out for that long?"
I tried to stand, but my body felt unbearably heavy. My legs wobbled beneath me like I've never walked before. I felt like a child trying to walk for the first time as I staggered across my dumpster of a room, stopping a few meters from the mirror.
Hideous.
There was no other word for it. My face was a mess of bruises, my cheeks swollen with pain. The witchy GM hadn't been kidding when she said she wanted me dead.
I felt as light as a feather, probably even lighter. Had I lost weight? My stomach growled loudly in protest. Guess I hadn't eaten in days. I turned to Sharon.
"Did you cook something?"
She let out a bitter chuckle. "Cook? We don't even have pots to cook with anymore."