Chapter Twenty-two

Cecilia

Reaching for the sheet, I sat up, searching the darkness.

Cold. My leg was so cold.

The shower.

No, I wasn’t wet.

My mind searched for clues.

The closet. I felt the walls around me, taking away my breath.

Was the closet door open?

Was someone in here with me?

Blood coursed through my circulation, running rapidly as a chill skirted my skin. Still, I refused to faint. If I fainted I’d be vulnerable—more vulnerable, if that were even possible. The covers wavered in my trembling grasp, hiding my nakedness until I was told to drop it.

“Cecilia.”

I blinked again as my other senses kicked into gear.

My name. They’d never before used my name.

The musty scent of the sheet dissipated, replaced with soap and shampoo. The ever-present odor of the bucket was gone. The closet was bigger. The window was wrong. I inhaled.

The bed dipped.

I was in a bed—a real bed.

“Cecilia, you’re okay.”