Chapter 118 The Recording

• When I entered my room, it was almost untouched. As if time had held its breath, waiting for me to return. The faint scent of lavender still clung to the sheets.
• I slipped off Kyle’s jacket, the warmth of it fading from my shoulders. Underneath, my top was still torn, the jagged edges around the neckline a brutal reminder of what had happened earlier. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like I was staring at someone else. Someone scraped and bruised and silent.
• My fingertips grazed the torn fabric then I thought about what Mrs Prescott had said that the Prescott family was never hers to begin with.