10
Vivian.
There’s a peculiar numbness that follows fear—the kind that settles into your bones after days and days of anxiety, when you’ve spent so long bracing for disaster that you forget how to stand upright. I felt it that morning as I stood by the window, arms wrapped around myself, sunlight painting gold across the floor. Everything in the house felt unfamiliar. Even the birds outside seemed too loud, as if nature itself was conspiring to remind me that nothing would ever be the same again.
I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mrs. Radley’s pinched mouth, her hungry eyes. I heard whispers behind cupped hands, saw Gerald’s face twisting in confusion and heartbreak, felt the whole town turning against me. But underneath the dread was something else—a throb
