The lock clicked in my head all night. Over and over, that metallic whisper of finality, each echo sharper than the last.
His words coiled inside me like serpents: Every strike has its price. You’ll learn soon enough how dearly yours cost
“What was he going to do?” I thought to myself
I stood stiff on the velvet, midnight sheets looking up at the exquisite ceiling with its chubby figures of cherubs dancing in relief, teasing angels who kept watch over my hell. The candles were low burning, and threw their hideous shadows that curled like animals along the walls. Each breath seemed stolen, each beat of the heart was a tally towards whatever atrocity he had in mind.
But I wouldn't break. I wouldn't.
It was not until the sun at last peeked through the closed windows, and all was tinted
