“Someone help me!” Your voice is swallowed by the silence of the Underworld without even leaving an echo. You begin to sweat, and your fingers start to slip.
You drop. As you hit the ground, you feel your leg snap beneath you.
You wake up, biting back a scream.
Your leg will heal before your father wakes up. It always does. But knowing it will heal supernaturally quickly does not make it hurt less now.
And tomorrow will be just the same. You can’t go on like this. You just can’t. But you have no idea how to change it. Is it your destiny to die, night after night? What’s the point? There has to be something you can do . . .
What will you do tomorrow night?