Camilla
She failed.
I know she did—because it's been three days, and the door to her room hasn't opened even once.
I want to know what went wrong. She's not an idiot, but her lack of strength… that's what worries me most.
Was she tortured in there? Did the pain finally break her? What in the world are they doing to her in that lab?
It unsettles me that I care at all. Yet ever since he brought her here… I've felt something I haven't in years.
Hope.
There's a glow about her now—subtle, almost inconceivable, but impossible to ignore.
What exactly was I hoping she could do?
I scowl as irritation claws under my skin, making my insides itch like fire ants crawling through my veins. With a shuddering sigh, I jam two fingers down my throat and gag, eyes watering as bile and acid burn the back of my tongue.
It all comes out, like it always does. But every time I purge that poison, I feel like I'm losing something of myself, piece by piece.
