Sophia
“Sophia, open up!”
The knocks grew louder. Sharper. More desperate.
I didn’t flinch.
I was already curled in the chair by the window, knees drawn to my chest, hands wrapped around a half-filled glass of water I hadn’t even sipped. It was warm now. Like everything in this apartment. Stale. Quiet. Grieving.
My apartment was dim. Quiet, except for the old ceiling fan humming above me like a warning. The curtains were drawn, swallowing the sunlight. Half-packed boxes from when I thought I might run. A withered plant on the windowsill. The place smelled like stale coffee and yesterday’s fear. Dishes I never touched sat cold in the sink. A takeout bag wilted on the counter. I hadn’t eaten. Couldn’t.
“What does he want now?” I whispered to no one. My voice was hoarse. Distant. Like
