Chloe’s Point of View
I don’t really remember walking back.
My body feels disconnected from the rest of me, almost like I am watching someone else go through the motions.
All I know is I didn’t go home. I couldn’t.
Not with the way my dad looked at me. Not with the pressure in my chest that feels like it might snap something inside of me clean in half.
So, I just kept walking, and now I am here. Standing in Zayde’s room in the pack house.
I blink, almost surprised to see it. My eyes wander around the room, taking it all in. The worn leather chair in the corner, the neatly made bed, the faint lavender, bergamont and sandalwood that clings to everything in here.
I hesitate in the doorway for a moment.
I could still turn around and leave.
Go anywhere else.
But my feet don’t move.
