Vivian tried to move, but the sharp pain that shot through her body made her freeze in place. It felt like being pierced by needles. Her breath caught; the pain dragged her back to reality.She sank slowly back into the warm water, trying not to make it worse.A knock sounded on the door—loud, impatient, grating against her raw nerves. She clenched her jaw, dried herself quickly, and slipped into a loose set of clothes. When she peered through the peephole and saw who was outside, a wave of irritation rolled through her.“Bang, bang, bang!” The knocking grew louder.She yanked open the door, her expression cold.Outside stood a middle-aged man with a sour face. “What took you so long? What were you doing in there?”“Watch your tone, Uncle,” Vivian said sharply. The man was her uncle, Henry Wilson, and his wife stood right behind him, peering nosily into the apartment.Her aunt gave a high, artificial laugh. “Oh my, were you showering? In the middle of the day?” She grabbed Vivia
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