Elena's Point Of View
A sharp, splitting pain thundered in my skull like drums from hell.
“Mmmgh,” I groaned sharply, my voice hoarse, dry, like sandpaper scraping against wood. The light from the window sliced across my face with cruel sharpness, forcing my eyes shut.
“Graham,” I mumbled in protest, my voice barely a whisper, “close the windows, please…” I groaned again, louder this time, hoping he’d hear and move. My limbs ached, my temples throbbed, and my mouth tasted like regret.
Silence.
I turned over, dragging the covers over my head like a cocoon, seeking refuge from the merciless daylight. “Baby?” I whispered again.
Still nothing.
“Graham?” My voice rose, touched with confusion this time. No answer. No footsteps. No rustling from the bathroom. Nothing but the eerie stillnes
