Catherine's Pov
My eyes flickered open, and for a disorienting second, I didn't know where I was. A dusty, ornate chandelier dangled from a high ceiling, creaking softly with a sound that set my teeth on edge. My heart immediately kicked into a frantic rhythm, pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I pushed myself up, my palms sinking into a thin, musty mattress, and scanned the room.
It was an old bedroom, large but suffocating. Dozens of toys were scattered across the floor—a porcelain doll with a cracked face lay near my feet, a wooden train set was derailed in a corner, a deflated ball sat limply by the door. But this was no normal child's room. The air was thick with a coppery, rotting stench that made my stomach lurch.
