Elena paced restlessly across her small bedroom, her bare feet brushing against the cold tiled floor. The nightmare she had just woken from clung to her chest like a weight she could not shake off. She had tried lying back down, pulling the duvet close, willing herself to relax—but her mind kept replaying the same scenes, the same warnings, the same shadows. Sleep had completely abandoned her.
Her heart drummed as she walked from one corner of the room to the other. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ms. Anne’s face—smiling, calculating, triumphant. It sent a chill down her spine. She couldn’t keep quiet anymore. She couldn’t wait till morning. If she delayed, Ms. Anne would strike first, and the bakery… her mother… everything that mattered to her… would crumble.
With shaky hands, E
