I curl into myself on the mattress, my body shaking from the pain and the overwhelming helplessness. Fiona stands by the door, clutching the gun in her trembling hands, her eyes flickering between me and the door. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. The weight of what just happened—and what might come next—sits between us like a ticking time bomb.
Fiona stands there, clutching the gun like a lifeline, her hands trembling so violently that I wonder if she’ll drop it. My body screams in pain as I try to stand, the bruises and cuts from Samuel’s brutal attack making every movement a battle. But I force myself up, my breath ragged, and look at her—at Fiona, who’s trying so hard to act like she has control, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s terrified.
"Maisie," she says, trying
