Feeling strange, I end up in Isaak’s room, pacing up and down, jumping at the slightest noise.
Two hours later, I’m still sitting on his window seat and he’s still not here. It isn’t until nearly three in the morning that I hear heavy footsteps.
I want to get up, but I’m so tired and my legs feel heavy and numb, and before I can move, the door swings open.
I forget about the pins-and-needles in my leg and stare at Isaak. He doesn’t look hurt, but he looks exhausted. And pissed, and a whole host of other things besides.
“What are you doing here?”
“I… I was wondering where you were.”
“So you came to my bedroom?”
“Why did you leave so abruptly this morning?”
He removes the jacket he’s got on and I notice streaks of blood across the white shirt. “Oh my God!” I gasp, jerking myself up t
