Eleanor
Sunday mornings were meant for sleeping in. For stretching lazily in bed, basking in the luxury of not having to rush anywhere, for ignoring the world outside my blankets and pretending responsibilities didn’t exist.
And that was exactly what I had been doing.
Maybe I was even going to go right back to sleep, but maybe later after I had been fed.
Yawning, I stretched my arms above my head, blinking up at the ceiling as I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. My body felt pleasantly heavy, my limbs still recovering from the exhaustion of the night before.
Between the party, the mind games with Emma Klein, and the unexpected confrontation in the bathroom with her attack dog Claire, and then the charity event at the end of the party where once again, I felt out of place bec
