“Done,” Inayah huffed in exhaustion, sitting back on her heels and wiping saline perspiration from her forehead.
Her wary gaze scoured the foyer and hallway before her, the wooden floors scrubbed clean of grime and dirt. The wooden bucket beside her sloshed with murky brown contents as she tossed the brush inside.
Her whole body feels sore. The skin of her knees scraped, bruised and bleeding. Her arms numb from the strain of moving back and forth viciously struggling to clean the grime.
She blows away a strand of hair that falls over her eyes, momentarily obscuring her vision, then flexes her fingers, cracking each stiff knuckle.
Her legs ache with the need to rest, to find somewhere warm and cosy, curl up beneath a blanket and let her heavy eyes slip shut.
However, something terrible
