(Virginia’s POV)
This place makes my skin crawl.
The neighborhood reeks of garbage and illegal substance. I pull my hood up, keeping my head low as I navigate through the maze of crumbling buildings and haunted eyes.
I find John's apartment building - if you can even call it that, at the end of the block. The paint is peeling, graffiti covers every surface, and half the windows are boarded up.
This is the kind of place no decent person sets a foot in.
The place I used to live before I ended up at the orphanage.
I climb three flights of stairs, my heels echoing in the empty stairwell. The smell of mold and something worse I don't want to identify makes me gag.
John's door is cracked and warped. I knock twice, pause, then knock once. Our old signal.
The door swings open and at the s
