Agnes
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, illuminating Elijah’s dark eyes. It was morning. I was in bed, safe although terrified, and the house was just as it always was. Warm and cozy, embers still glowing in the fireplace, and not a cobweb or a skeleton to be seen.
Elijah’s face hovered mere inches from mine, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands were wrapped around my wrists, pinning them to the mattress. Our bodies were pressed together, and despite everything, his weight was comforting.
“Agnes,” he breathed, sitting up ever so slightly. “Are you okay?”
A profound sense of relief washed over me at the sight of him. He was here. He was real. Not a ghost, not a figment of my imagination.
“I’m fine,” I managed. My throat was raw and sore, and just t
