Date = 26 June — 1 in the morning
The horrible day has passed.
Place = San Francisco (Black Pit)
A new place.
POV - Aria
Dark.
Not pitch black, but dark in that gentle, creeping way where you’re not sure if your eyes are open or shut. It smells like salt. Like wood warmed by the sun. Like … laundry detergent and the ocean. Mountains.
And him. Enrique.
“Ow,” I murmur as a sharp pain pierces my head, little knives stabbing into my brain while images flash through my mind like a low-budget horror movie — the dirty mattress; Lee’s enraged gaze; the horrible smell; vile laughter; and that eerie screaming, similar to seagulls fighting over food.
My heart jolts awake before the rest of me does.
Fear paralyzes me. I lay super still, squeezing my eyes tensely shut. Trying to figure things
