Sakura sat at the foot of my bed with a knife in her shaky hand. I blinked my eyes open a couple of times, adjusting to the light as pain shot through my body. I thought I was seeing things in a dream—or a nightmare.
What is she doing with a kitchen knife?
What is she doing with a kitchen knife?I squeezed my eyes closed, then reopened them.
She still sat there, gripping the knife even harder until her knuckles were white. “I have to do it. I have to do it. I have to do it,” she muttered to herself.
I gazed past her to see Georgina bound to a chair across from us, her wrists, ankles, neck, and waist tied tightly to the chair with thick rope, hose, and wire. She bled from a huge gash in her head and was covered with glass.
What the f**k is happening?
What the f**k is happening?Maybe I
