At Zoey's house:
The light from the sitting room cast a dim glow into the kitchen. Zoey, still in her work clothes, crept to the kitchen for water – Greta was finally asleep.
She took a sip, her mind drifted to the man in her bedroom. Why did he get drunk? What triggered him?
Her fingers tapped silently on the table, her lips pressed into a thin line, as she slid his phone from her pocket. Her fingers hovered over the surface for a moment, hesitant.
What if he finds out? Her subconscious screamed.
She shook it off, Hazel's face flashing in her mind. Determination kicked in, and she clicked into his mail app.
She waited for the mail to load; five seconds felt like a lifetime. Just when it finished loading and the screen lit up, she heard footsteps.
She tried tucking the phone back in
