Fortunately, these days Christian and Uncle Alfred are busy with the recent project in hand. They usually come home late at night, providing me with an opportunity to pretend to eat earlier and go to sleep.
It’s 10 pm, and I am lying on the bed, feigning sleep. I can't let Christian see the bruise on my neck. He'll understand the moment he sees it and would likely turn the world upside down to avenge me.
The door to our room swung open with a creak, the sound reverberating through the quietude of the space. In that instant, I gasped, the residual fear from today’s harrowing incident clawing its way back to the forefront of my consciousness.
What a shameful mess I am. Even the gentle, almost imperceptible movement of the door swinging managed to send involuntary shivers down my spine.
