I wake to the smell of coffee. My Master is there, sitting on the end of the bed with Michael, talking quietly with him. I don´t move, trying to pick out the words, but their voices are a low murmur, and I can´t hear what they are saying.
I stir, and they both turn to look at me, Michael smiling at me, my Master sombre.
“Good morning, Charlotte. How are you now?" says my Master.
My stomach churning, “What´s happening?"
He chews his lip for a moment. “I´m not going to tell you exactly until we have some final information come in, but I will say, that Haswell has worked tirelessly on your behalf, over the last day or so and... it´s going to be alright for you."
“Really?"
“Yes, really." The words sound as though he should be pleased, but his expression, his body language, says otherwis
