Tiffany Morrow
College student
Rescued trafficking victim, although she escapes her rescuers
Dealing with trauma, paranoia, and other issues
Sneak peek
Tiffany closed her eyes against the onslaught of thoughts swirling like a tornado in her brain as her hands slid over a strand of hair. The feel of it grounded her, even though she recognized that the gesture she couldn’t seem to stop meant she wasn’t as well as she was before.
She had thought she only imagined the demon horse with glowing red eyes at the airport, since it looked like so many of the demon creatures that had haunted her in the past, but there was no mistaking the mountain view she had seen out the window this morning. She was really and truly in Denver.
She was home. The nightmare of the jungle was over.
She had vague memories of the in-between. Men and women in white. Being tied down. The bearded man and the blond woman who had brought her here. She’d been trippin’ hard for days, so most of that was like a fever dream that had frightened even her. And she wasn’t frightened by much anymore.
She still didn’t feel normal—the noise of the bus was clawing into her head—but she was much improved over… before. She really didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d been carried out of that vile cabin in the Amazon. She did remember that—waking for a moment or two in the arms of someone strong—a red dragon. Whispered words she couldn’t recall. Words that had struck her as kind.
So why did you run from them? God, you do the stupidest things.
The voices that had been nearly eliminated before she had awakened in a Brazilian hell had been her almost constant companion without the meds whose job it was to hush them to a whisper.
She knew it would do no good to answer the voices. They never listened to her. But she did know why she was running from those who had helped her. Aaron McCain had spoken with kind and beautiful words. Justin Miranda had too. Kind words were often a trap. Who’s to say that those two weren’t taking her from one hell to another?