-Sloane Pierce:
I sit on the edge of the bed, my body still trembling, my mind refusing to make sense of what just happened. The room feels too still, as if even the air is holding its breath. I can still hear the echo of her voice—Roxy's voice—smooth, steady, deliberate.
Mrs. Delgado. The words tumble through my head again and again, like stones dropped into a well with no bottom. Each repetition makes the air thicker, the walls closer, the fear sharper. I can't even remember when I started shaking, only that I can't make it stop.
My fingers twitch uselessly in my lap, my breath stumbles in and out, and I feel like the ground beneath me is tilting ever so slightly, making it impossible to balance on reality.
The bed is soft beneath me, but it feels wrong—too soft, too foreign, too close to where she last stood. I keep thinking that if I move too much, I'll disturb something invisible she left behind.
