The attic was silent, but the air felt heavy. It was the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks. I had washed the sticky, red wine from my skin using a small basin of cold water. My skin was pale and shivering. I didn't have a towel, so I used an old, thin sheet to dry myself. I didn't have any more clothes besides my torn nightshirt. I pulled it over my head, the fabric hanging loosely on my thin frame.
I sat on the edge of my mat, staring at the door. I knew he was coming. The bond between us was like a drum beating in my ears. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* It was getting louder. It was getting closer.
Then, I heard it. The heavy, slow sound of boots on the wooden stairs. Each step sounded like a heart breaking. Each step was a promise of danger.
The door didn't ope
