RAELYNN
The packhouse is so weird, it doesn’t feel safe.
I haven’t been able to sleep. I miss home. The home I built years ago and the home I left back here, it’s all gone. All that's left is this bitterness and the constant stabbing pain in my chest. I’ve had to listen to the maids share theories about me, about my dad, and each time I fought very hard not to go out there. I would’ve been outnumbered, and my anger and grief don’t mix very well.
Dad’s death seems to hit me more in the middle of the night, and I always find myself gasping for air and choking on the lump in my throat. The house is silent, and I’m sobbing into a pillow in the corner of the room when the door creaks open. I look up, instantly met with an overly tall asshole staring at me. “So this is what you’re still doing
