Grace
Ever since that morning I woke up with my cheek pressed against the rough fabric of Kent's jacket, the atmosphere inside the house had shifted. We did not talk about the hallway. We did not discuss Dr. Fenn or the drive that Rook was still working on somewhere in Venom. But something slightly warmer was brewing beneath the surface now, a strange current that neither of us acknowledged during our quiet breakfast routines or the long afternoons.
A week after that night, I stood in front of the small bathroom mirror and stared at the person looking back at me. My long hair looked like a remnant of a girl who belonged in a sterile laboratory in Charlverk, a girl who trusted her mentor and believed she was saving the world. I stared at the dark strands for a long time, watching how they
