The sun shown through the windows gently, lazily.

The curtains, though tightly drawn, could not keep out the undesired day.

She blinked, the golden rays catching her exhausted eyes off guard. She realized she hadn’t slept at all that night. She had, instead, been in a haunting daze… a deep, reflecting, self-corrosive trance.

She was cross-legged on her bed, the bed sheets and blankets twisted and gnarled, as though they had been nearly strangled, and now lay gasping for air. Her back was slouching and aching, her neck too weak to hold up her pounding head. The fingers of her hands were knotting together, then slipping apart, only to knot together again.

She shook with anxiousness, shivering at the thoughts playing over and over in her head — her inescapable nightmare.

It wasn’t over. It wasn’t ever over. She knew it wasn’t. But she didn’t know what.

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