Twenty Two

There was so much brightness when Hayleigh woke up.

Am I dead?

It was the first thought that came to her as red flashed before her eyes and filled the back of her mind. She hadn’t stayed long enough to figure out if the words on her wall had been written out of paint or blood. A part of her had already shut down and ran on autopilot the entire time she was being interrogated at the dean’s office.

If heaven consisted of sheer, white curtains billowing gently against the wind, it was certainly a calming sight.

Hayleigh buried her face against the sheets of the bed she lay on. It was warm and soft; the scent familiar, comforting. A faint whiff of cologne, musk...

Rowen.

She sat up with a bolt. There was no one beside her, with her clothes from last night still on her. Her sluggish mind raced to recall if something funny had happened, but there was nothing.