"Tomorrow!" I screamed, my voice splitting on the cold chilly walls.
Tomorrow. Well, I want to know how I can defend myself, yes but tomorrow was quiet, early--too early. I am not yet cured, the injury still open and sore, and they want me to begin tomorrow? My limbs cried out due to fatigue and all the muscles protested against whatever hell I had just experienced.
But the better thing--if there was any such thing yet in his house--was that I could move about again. At least for now. At least until tomorrow claims its dues.
I walked to my room with an unsteady legs with the pain of my fall, but each step felt like freedom, pushed the door open and my room was exactly how I'd left it—untouched, frozen in time like a crime scene. The unmade bed with its twisted sheets told stories I did
