Alone, Ava paced the room, her fingers slightly dragging along the comforter, then tracing them up and down the faded flowered curtains that matched the same pattern on the beds and even the padding on the vanity stool. It made it feel as if they were laying in the middle of the garden, surrounded by flowers. It was not what Ava would've chosen for herself at thirteen years old when she moved into the house full-time, but Layla thought it was perfect, so she didn't argue.
Perching on the side of the bed, Ava stared out the window, the sun having reached its peak and now slowly descending behind the towering homes surrounding Layla's graveside mansion. Her upbringing had been far from normal, way past basic to the point that it was almost unbelievable. But in this room, before what she did, it had been the best part of her life.