The first intrusion is the light, a weak, watery gray seeping through the neatly arranged curtains of my room.
My limbs feel impossibly heavy, as if they’ve been filled with wet sand, each movement a monumental effort.
A dull, persistent throb behind my eyes amplifies the metallic tang that coats my tongue, a constant, vile reminder of the poison that has taken root within me.
Then, the sound.
A soft, almost melodic humming that cuts through the cottony fog in my ears.
Zara.
Her presence drifts towards me on the air, a cloying sweetness that once ignited a fierce, possessive fire within me.
Now, it feels like an oppressive perfume, suffocating the last vestiges of my will. I can sense her nearness beside the bed, a gentle pressure on the mattress as she dabs my forehead with a
