*Will*
With Millie safely in Agatha’s room, I step into my own, which is still dimly lit. I undress quietly, slipping into my bed clothes before turning off the light and settling in beneath the warm blanket.
But sleep escapes me. All I can think about is Millie. Her stories of the ship sinking seem so fantastic, they cannot really be true. Yet, she tells it all with such conviction, I’ve found myself floundering between believing every word and thinking her mad.
The latter is more likely the case. It has to be. To think she appeared suddenly from the future would be the ravings of a lunatic, and I don’t believe myself to be one.
Perhaps I’m drawn in by her beauty, and that’s what makes me wish to believe her. She’s truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her strawberry blond
