Ruby
The night that I asked about Luna, Atwood gave me a cold and distant answer and then promptly sent me to bed. I tried not to think about it, but I couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering just who Luna was and why Atwood was being so strange about it.
That night, as I lay in bed, I had another vision. Truthfully, I’m not sure if it was a vision or a dream, but even now, two weeks later, it burns inside my mind.
In the vision, there was a beautiful woman with long, dark hair staring at me.
Not a real woman, not really.
A painting.
I was standing in that same dark room from that day I had been running around the castle. I don’t know how I had gotten in there, or the events leading up to it, but there I was, holding the white sheet that covered the pain
