Freya sat silently on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking as the sobs refused to stop. Her heart was raw. She could barely hear Samantha’s voice through the storm of her grief, but then the words cut through her thoughts..
“See? Irene is back,” Samantha said, her eyes fixed on Freya. “And that’s because you’re in Northridge. You belong here. Stop fighting it, Freya. Just let it go. You’ll be fine soon.”
Freya’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her throat burned as though words had turned to ash inside her. She wanted to argue, to scream, to reject everything Samantha was saying, but she couldn’t. Her chest tightened, and the tears came harder. Memories of the human world flooded her—the late-night talks with Daniel, the little moments of laughter with strangers who
