Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I blinked away the spots in my vision and headed into the
bathroom, throwing my fist into the silver-framed mirror
above the sink. Shards of glass spilled into the sink, and I
grabbed a washcloth, wrapping it around a piece of glass and
heading for my door.
I stumbled, though, the room spinning in front of me.
“What the fuck?” I gritted out, impatient.
The wound was bearable, but sweat covered my brow, and
nausea rolled through my stomach. I blinked long and hard,
but every time I opened my eyes, the room was getting
blacker, like I was sinking deeper into a tunnel, the light at the
end getting smaller and smaller. Blood slowly seeped through
my black T-shirt and down my pants.
Fuck, this wasn’t good. I needed food. Or water. And the
pain was fucking irritating.
I rubbed my eyes, but instead of moving for the door, I fell
down on my bed, letting my head fall back.
The cool comforter felt like heaven, and I swung a leg up,
trying to calm my breathing.
Just a minute. Just need to rest for one fucking minute.
I wasn’t sure if I fell asleep or how long I was asleep, but I
opened my eyes with a start, the room pitch black and a body
on top of me.
“Shhh,” the shadow said, her hand over my mouth.
What? Who was this?
I reached up, grabbing her and recognizing the feel of her
hair and her head in my hands.
Oh, my God. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Winter?” I blurted out. “What the fuck?”
“Shhh,” she hissed, pressing her hand down on me harder.
“Be very quiet. They’re right outside the door.”
She was saving me?
“How did you get in here?” I asked.