⚠️ TW: Reader discretion is advised.
If you are sensitive to themes of abuse or trauma, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this chapter.
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A knock echoed through the room, sharp and sudden, pulling me from the haze that had settled over me like a heavy fog.
I blinked, slow, almost as if I'd forgotten where I was. The hum at the back of my skull hadn't stopped; in fact, it had only intensified.
My body felt wrong—like a suit of skin I was only vaguely familiar with, too tight, too hot, too… alive.
The knock came again—persistent, rhythmic.
Shaking my head, I pushed myself off the floor, the plush carpet shifting beneath my feet like soft clouds.
Clara must've come back for me.
I pulled the door open, expecting to see blonde hair and concern.
But it wasn't Clara.
It wasn't even close.
Two men stood there.
Strangers.
Scary.
Smiling.
