The house grows quieter as evening settles in.
It isn’t the kind of silence that comes with emptiness—there are people here, moving somewhere beyond the walls—but it’s restrained, deliberate. Like the house itself knows when to hold its breath. I sit on the edge of the bed Mariel prepared for me, my hands folded loosely in my lap, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the window.
I look the same.
And yet… I don’t feel like I belong in my own skin anymore.
The quiet presses in, wrapping itself around my thoughts until I can’t tell whether it’s meant to soothe me or keep me contained. I sit on the edge of the bed Mariel showed me earlier, hands resting on my knees, staring at the window where the trees sway gently in the fading light.
Too gentle.
Everything here feels… controlle
