Chapter 63

**Sloane**

They unclip the leads and peel the pads off my skin, and the heat they leave behind keeps my muscles twitching like the current is still inside me. A handler marks something on a clipboard, the pen scratching steadily while my hands shake at my sides. Then the door opens, and the corridor swallows us again, damp concrete and bleach and boots that never hurry because time belongs to them