CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sarah stands in her silent and barren stretch of hallway. Picking at her cuticles, she takes in a deep breath, leaning her head against the rough stone wall. The namuhs here can be so, so… jealous. Is that the right word? Resentful? Spiteful? Oooh, she could just spit feathers at the way they treat their own who have it better. Don’t they have any sense of continuity? Her cuticle picking intensifies to the point she pulls too deep. She hisses at the sharp pain shooting through her thumb, and then puts her bleeding thumb to her mouth. Sucking on the small wound for several seconds, she pulls it from her mouth with a soft smack.
The sound echoes a few times through the hallway.
Sarah takes in a breath, holding it, and cuts her eyes towards the corner.
No one makes a so
