The transition from sleep to consciousness was like treading through thick, dark water. I woke not to the sun, but to the low, steady vibration of a voice coming from the study.
I lay perfectly still, my breath held.
"I understand, Aris," Jason was saying, his voice hushed but resonant. "Yes, she’s more lucid today. We’ll be in this morning."
A pause. My heart hammered against the mattress.
"I want to discuss the long-term plan. I’ll see you at ten," Jason continued.
The click of the phone hanging up felt like a gavel striking. Aris Thorpe. The "anger management counselor" who was actually a psychiatrist.
I closed my eyes as footsteps approached the bedroom. I regulated my breathing, forcing my limbs to remain limp. The door creaked open, and a moment later, the mattress dipped. A wa
