Mae POV
The sound of knitting needles clicking together hammers through my brain. It reminds me of when I was a child, and my stepmother, Susan, used to watch me nap when I was scared. I groan loudly and place my hand over my forehead. I was hoping the sound of my protest would stop the noise, but whoever is knitting in my room continues their work.
I allow my eyes to flutter open and try to look around the room, but my head feels too heavy to lift. Reaching into the recesses of my mind, I look for Celeste, but she is nowhere to be found. Over the past couple of days, I have gotten used to her being there, and I cannot help but wonder where she has gone.
Then it all comes flooding back. My father poisoned me. I try to push myself up on the bed, and a low, gruff voice comes f
