Becky’s POV
Every corner of Joan's mansion's walls appeared to close in on me, whispers and shadows abounded. Sitting on the chilly cell floor, I hugged my knees to my breast and found Paul and Zara rushing through my head. I asked whether they were alright, whether they had escaped Joan's hold, or if they were caught like me and felt forlorn.
A bit of me wanted to yell, to rebel against the unfairness of it all. We had gone so far, risked all to reveal Joan's crimes, but it felt as though we were perpetually behind her web of lies and deception. I raised my head toward the barred window, the walls covered in long shadows from the weak setting sun. Though everything was slipping through my hands like sand, I had to hang onto hope.
The door creaked open, and my heart leaped from my breas
