Grace
I wake choking on heat. The sheets are twisted around my legs, damp with sweat, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. For a moment, I don't know where I am, only that something is wrong. The air feels too thick, too charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
I sit up sharply and notice that my breath is coming too fast. Sweat is coating my skin, and I choke on the lump in the back of my throat. I swallow once and then twice, trying to free myself of the anxiety that is gagging me.
Instead, bile rises in my throat, threatening to spill from my lips. I force it back down. I am stronger than this. I refuse to be afraid.
My room is dark. So much so that the light from the full moon barely illuminates my space.
Wait. That can't be right. The moon is not meant to be
