Echo POVThe voices are screaming now, a chaotic symphony of go, go, go. I push the door open, slow, and step inside. Her scent hits me harder here, lavender, vanilla, her. She’s in bed, curled under the blankets, her hair spilling across the pillow like ink. I stand there, frozen, watching her chest rise and fall. She’s so close. I could reach out, touch her, claim her right now. The voices want it. Take her, Echo. She’s yours. She’s always been yours.But I don’t. Not yet. I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms through the gloves. Instead, I turn to her dresser. A hairbrush sits there, strands of her dark hair tangled in the bristles. I pick it up, twirling a single strand around my finger, tighter and tighter until it snaps. I slip it into my pocket with the note. A trophy. A promise.The voices are laughing now, wild and unhinged, and I can’t tell if it’s them or me. Maybe it’s both. I back out of the ro
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