Audrey's P.O.V
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A rhythmic banging cuts through the veil of sleep.
I jolt awake, heart already racing. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust in the dark. The room is cold, quiet—except for that sound.
Thud. Thud.
I blink and reach for my phone. 2:43 AM.
The sound again. I strain to listen, the haze of sleep not yet cleared from my mind.
Thud. Thud.
It’s coming from Drew’s room.
For a second, I lie frozen, hoping it’ll stop. Hoping I imagined it. But it continues. Steady. Violent.
Frowning, I throw back the covers and pad across the hallway, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. I knock once.
No answer.
“Drew?”
Nothing.
My pulse spikes. A sick feeling coils in my gut as I twist the knob and push the door open.
And the scene inside slices the air from my lungs.
Drew is kneeling on the bed, shirtless, slamming his head into the wall above the headboard. Again. And again.
Thud. Thud.