Morning came with a cruel, indifferent clarity.
Emilia didn’t remember the exact moment her consciousness had finally buckled under the weight of the night. She only knew that when her eyes flickered open, the room was flooded with a pale, buttery sunlight that felt offensive in its normalcy. It pushed through the gaps in the curtains, warming her skin with a gentleness that felt like a lie.
For a long time, she simply lay there.
She was listening to the static. For the rhythmic, unnatural snapping of branches in the woods. For the pull that invisible, magnetic hook in her chest that had spent the last week trying to drag her toward the darkness.
But there was only the hum of the refrigerator in the next room and the distant, muffled sound of a neighbor’s lawnmower.
“Okay…” she whisp
