10
Rue
In the evening, I start feeling pangs of hunger. It’s a good sign as far as my recovery goes; I’m finally well enough to worry about feeding myself. But thinking about how angry Dryas was, feeling the impressions his fingers left on my throat, I am scared to go downstairs.
I wait until the middle of the night to pad across the stone floors, going slowly so I can be sure to look around each corner for Dryas. He is absent though, probably passed out by now. Doesn’t stop me from shivering at every shadow, jumping halfway out of my skin with every imagined sound I hear.
How I have the energy for such self-preservation I don’t know, but I have always had a backbone made of steel. I make it down the stairs and into the kitchen without incident by the grace of God.
It’s dark, which su
