This time Anne woke with tears running down her cheeks and her pillow soaking wet. On one or two other nights, she was sure she’d screamed in her sleep, so this could be called an improvement.
The clock showed three hours before the sun would even come up. Waking up so early on a Saturday made her want to cry even harder.
She was so, so tired. Every part of her ached with exhaustion. Good nights were getting so rare that they seemed like a distant memory, like some kind of good dream she’d had years ago. She staggered into the bathroom and turned on the light.
She thought she looked nearly as old as her Gemaw now, like she’d skipped over turning twelve and gone straight on to sixty. Her green eyes were puffy and red, and she couldn’t pretend the dark circles under them didn’t show anymo
