Sera Winters
The worst part about crossing a line isn't the guilt. It's realizing you want to cross it again.
I didn't leave my room.
Morning came and I heard them moving around out there breakfast sounds, Kieran's voice saying something I couldn't make out, the scrape of a chair. But I stayed on the floor with my back against the door, staring at my arm where the marks had appeared last night.
They were still there. Black patterns spreading from shoulder to wrist like someone had drawn on my skin with permanent ink. I'd hoped maybe they would fade while I slept. That I'd wake up and find them gone and convince myself last night had been some kind of fever dream.
But no. Still there. Still proof.
I traced one of the l
