Raven
The first thing I felt was heaviness. Not the weight of the blankets or the pull of sleep. It wasn't the softness of the silk sheets. It was something deeper. Like my body had been filled with lead or wet sand and left to settle in the remains.
My eyes stayed closed for a long time even after I woke up. I could hear the house around me — quiet, careful sounds. A floorboard creaking somewhere down the hall. The faint hum of a vent for the heat. The muted click of a door. Nothing rushed. Nothing demanded. It felt like they were walking around me, like I was something fragile left on a shelf. Tiptoeing around eggshells.
I stared out the window. The rain had turned into snow. A fog covered the window, the drastic change in temperature from outside fogged up the glass.
My throat hu
