MORNING COMES FAR TOO quickly and I haven’t slept a wink. Every time I glanced at the clock, barely an hour had gone by. My alarm blares and though I watched it tick over, I still jump. Smacking my hand against the top of the alarm might stop the ear-splitting bleeping but it doesn’t halt the arguing voices in my head.
I blink up at my dark ceiling. With the heart of winter creeping closer, the sun won’t even c***k the horizon for a while. Not that light will make my thoughts any clearer. Everything is a giant muddled mess. Pushing Sam from my mind only brings other stresses to the forefront. Somehow, I’ve gone from being an office-worker to spying for the police, and I can’t tell if my stomach is squirming from anxiety or excitement. This is my chance to experience what my screenplay cha
