Celeste's eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by the bright, unsolicited sun. The curtains were already drawn, the windows tilted open and Zillon was nowhere to be seen.
His scent still lingered in the room, but it wasn't strong which meant he probably left more than a hour ago. Perhaps he was with Celia now and even if he wasn't, his whereabouts wasn't any of her business.
Sitting up on the bed, Celeste looked down at her bondaged arm. What had willed her to put pressure on the razor that day?
Which demon from hell had persuaded her that dying would be better than living?
Why did she not think about the fact that it'd be painful?
Why did she just think about what Zillon did, where he was going and what he'd do in the future?
Why didn't she think about herself?
She was a fool, b
