By the time I reach his bedroom, my chest is tight and my eyes sting. The guard who followed me stops outside the room and posts up by the door that I just slammed. I flop onto the bed face‑first and scream into the mattress.
I hate this.
I hate being trapped.
I hate being confused.
I hate that he knows everything and I know nothing.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
My own clothes are folded neatly on the dresser, washed and clean. But when I stand and walk over to them, my hand hesitates. I don’t want them.
Instead, I open Kael’s closet and pull out another one of his shirts. A soft gray one this time. It smells like pine and something warm I can’t name. I slip it on and crawl into bed, hugging the blanket to my chest.
Hours pass.
The sky outside darkens.
I drift in
