Lori didn't remember walking back to her room.
The corridor blurred around her—stone walls and flickering lights and the distant murmur of other students—all of it smearing together like wet paint. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her up the stairs, down the hall, past doors she didn't see.
She reached her room.
The door swung open.
She stepped inside.
And then she slid down onto her bed, her back against the headboard, her legs stretched out before her. The room spun. The walls seemed to pulse, in and out, in and out, like the chamber of a beating heart.
She couldn't see anything around her.
Her vision was tunneled, narrowed to a single point—the white wall opposite her bed, blank and unhelpful.
Her head was spinning.
Iva's words echoed in her skull, bouncing off bone and me
