xviii

Rosalie lay in bed staring at the painted wolf with a blank expression on her face while holding the covers close to her body. Today was a humid day, but Rosalie felt cold as her skin grew pale. After the events of yesterday, Rosalie was left in a state of haze. She had woken up at the crack of dawn and since then, she hadn’t been able to look away from the wolf that she painted on her wall. She felt like she was going crazy, none of this made sense to her, and it was obvious to her that this doesn’t happen to a normal person.

She wanted to talk about it, but she was scared. Scared of being called crazy knowing the cruel people there were in Queensland, they already thought her parents were crazy and horrible, so imagine how they would look at her situation. She didn’t want to tell her grandparents, in her mind, she thought that they were probably tired of all the drama that came with her.

Rosalie continuously felt drained of her physical and mental energy. She felt trapped and misera