Cecilia 's pov
I sit with Harper on the broken velvet arm of a faded red bench, our wrists and ankles bound tight enough that I can feel worry chafing at bone.
A low, yellow light seeps through a cracked window. The air smells like oil and rain.
We don’t say a word.
I try to keep my face calml. Just another visit.
The TV mutters in the background, playing some old 90s suspense movie.
Each sharp note in the soundtrack pulls my nerves tighter.
The clock on the wall ticks in awkward jerks, and the whole building feels like it’s holding its breath.
Suddenly, a long creak slices through the quiet.
The front door opens.
I hear footsteps. Heels scrape across the floor.
I turn my head. It’s Daisy.
She’s standing in the doorway. The light’s behind her. She look
