The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop, and if you listen closely you can hear your lungs grasp oxygen as much as they can, or maybe I'm too nervous.
"Zara, my dear. What's holding you back?" Chad moves forward, picking a toothpick from the container kept on the dining table, and inserts it between his canine.
What to do? What to do? What to do...
I can make a song out of this. I have uttered it so many times it doesn't help anymore. I fight the urge to glance his way, his jaw is set, and he can't stop flicking his finger on his trousers, back and forth. The movement is almost hypnotizing me.
I can feel all eyes on me — eager, questioning. They burn a hole straight through my thoughts as my vision blurs. I scramble to remember a happy time, any place but here.
You're back in the Omega Headquarters, you're back with Maya on your favorite swing.