That night, I couldn’t sleep for s**t.
I just laid there, flat on my back, eyes wide open as I stared up at the ceiling. It was just a boring, plain ceiling that probably hadn’t been cleaned since 1990. Every little creak in the house made me flinch like I was about to be ambushed. A tree branch hit the window? I nearly jumped out of my goddamn skin. The pipes groaned? Full-body goosebumps. My nerves were so fried I was practically sizzling.
It was like my body remembered the blood, the screams, the stench of death soaked into the mansion walls—even though Ethan had cleaned it all up like it never happened.
I kept trying to get comfortable. Tossed to one side. Then the other. Pulled the covers off. Pulled them back on. Kicked my leg out of the blanket because it was hot. Yanked it back
