Anya's POV
I wanted to speak, to tell him something—anything—but my throat had completely locked up, like someone had wrapped their hands around it and squeezed. The words I needed were right there, sitting heavy on my tongue, but they felt useless, absolutely worthless. They were trapped somewhere deep inside me, tangled up in a knot of sobs and panic that I couldn't untie no matter how hard I tried.
My chest heaved up and down as I cried, each breath coming out shaky and uneven. My tears kept falling, one after another, dropping freely onto the sheets below me and soaking through the fabric until I could feel the dampness against my knees. My hands gripped his shirt desperately, my fingers twisting into the soft material and clutching at him like he was the only solid thing in the ent
