I͟v͟y͟
I peek my head out. I'm still not used to being here. I still feel like it's too good for me.
You're useless.
I wince and pull my head back in, shutting the door.
I don't think that the voices will ever leave. I walk back to the couch and sink down into it, clutching my pillow to my chest and nuzzling it.
I sigh, disappointed in myself. I'm tired of being scared but every time I try to step out the door, there's an overwhelming sense of guilt that overtakes me.
I don't deserve a place this nice. Soft pillows, clean sheets, fresh flowers...
And those lights. Every night I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, imagining I'm outside under the stars, completely safe. No fear of rogues or of being dragged back into the shed to be beaten.
It took me about a month to get use
