Maya POV
After burying the mutilated rabbit and washing the blood off the front porch, I rush inside to wash my hands, convinced it has some disease I could potentially catch. Plus, I needed to get rid of the evidence about its existence, so I can remove it from my memory, or at least try to.
Once I am clean and I’ve scrubbed the dirt from beneath my nails. I suck in a deep breath and glance around at the place while putting my hands on my hips. Now what? Chewing my lip, I go over the mental list I made of all the things I have to do during the hours of me staring at the ceiling. Now I have the nitty-gritty task of setting them in order of what to do first.
One: set up the internet that keeps flaking on me.
Two: fix my herb boxes and put them together.
And three: the least favorite
