Emily walked the small room, her heart hammering; the quiet hung on her like a heavy garment. Every squeak, every far-off sound caused her to leap, her nerves strained to the brink. After spending hours gone, the stifling silence of the ancient warehouse seemed more like a tomb than a refuge. Though a cold, gnawing anxiety was eating away at her, she attempted to believe his vow that he would return, that this was the only way to stop the threat. Should he not return? Should anything go wrong, what then?
Imagine Daniel dead.
Her chest constricted at the idea, so she pushed herself to inhale deeply and attempt to relax. She had to be resolute. Panic would not be helpful. But particularly when she felt as if the walls were closing in on her, it was difficult for her to accept that everyt
