(Pov: Isabelle)
Lena noticed my pale face and said in a gentle voice, "Isabelle, your hands are trembling, and you seem to be on the verge of vomiting. We shouldn't go out like this."
As we stood in the hallway near the closet, the radiator in her room was hissing, and it was giving off the smell of old dust and hairspray that's been sitting there for ages.
I was sitting on the edge of her bed, which was not made, while my fingers kept pressing into the orange quilt that I had been holding initially. Not looking at her became almost a reflex so I just kept staring at my hands.
"I am good, " I muttered while pulling the long wool sleeves further down onto my wrists.
The wool was quite scratchy. "It's just that I'm really tired after all that stuff, Lena. b***h, this house has been a re
