Fifty

Tears stung Leah’s eyes as she stood frozen, staring at Mira’s lifeless body the next day. Her skin had turned ghostly pale, drained of every trace of warmth. Blood streaked across her cheeks and pooled at the corner of her lips, dried dark against the fragile lines of her face.

Her eyes once so full of light were wide open, rolled back into a chilling white that made Leah’s stomach twist. It was as if life had been ripped from her violently, leaving behind only a shell that mocked the memory of who she had been.

Mira’s hair clung to her damp skin, strands matted with blood, and her delicate hands were curled stiffly at her sides, the nails broken as though she had fought until her very last breath.

A sob broke free from Leah’s throat, raw and aching. She stood rooted to the spot, watching as Mira’s body was wrapped and bundled away. It was the first sight that had greeted her when she stepped out of the mansion that morning, the pale body lying out in the cold air, robbed of its fire