The night trudged by at a snail’s pace, minute by minute, by the thud of my heart, and the darkness was a suspicious pall over the room. I was stiff in bed till morning, vigilant eyes on the shadows, as if every time they closed succumbing to fatigue, something would pounce on me.
Soft sunlight seeped through the curtain, and the faint chirping of birds signalled dawn. The time on my phone read 7:32am. The Weverins should’ve left the mansion by now.
I dragged myself out of bed into the bathroom, head weighing on my neck, eyebags sagging to my knees. I splashed my face with cold water and held the edges of the sink. My eyes were bloodshot, cheeks pale and hollow. My jaw clenched. I washed my face again until the cold stung every nerve awake.
I skipped changing clothes, threw a sweater
