I had managed to peel the wet, ruined satin dress from my body, each movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my bruised knees and bruised shoulder
The steaming hot water from the shower was the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.
I stood beneath the shower for nearly thirty minutes, watching the design of the warehouse floor, the scent of gunpowder, and the lingering phantom taste of chloroform disappearing down the drain.
But no matter how hot the water became, the cold buried deep inside my chest refused to leave.
The screaming in the West Wing had stopped after three agonizing minutes. It always did. Like some twisted routine inside the walls of this mansion, the screams rose just enough to remind me that something horrifying still lived here… before silence swallowed
