He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a shirt. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.
I stared at the food. My stomach growled, but I ignored it.
I had gone hungry so many times that hunger felt like an old friend. It came and went, and it reminded me that I was still alive. I knew that if I ate now, I would want more tomorrow, and there might not be more tomorrow. That was how hunger worked in Cresswood, and that was how survival worked for me.
I walked to the trunk and knelt in front of it again. My hand hovered over the lid.
I thought about my mother, about the fire, and about the last time I saw her face.
Her words still rang in my head. "Wait for me."
I was still waiting.
I pulled my hand back and stood up.
Not yet. I was not ready yet.
What if the trun
