Yvaine's POV The same brown ceiling stared back at me as my eyes ooened. For a second I thought I heard my grandma’s soft, familiar calling of my name the way she used to when the sun barely touched the farm. ‘Wake up, Yvaine.’ My chest lifted with something close to hope before the rest of the room came into focus. My throat tightened until it hurt. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes before I could stop them. I should have died in that forest, instead I was still here. An IV needle sat in the back of my hand, taped down neatly. A thin tube ran up to a half-empty bag. My body felt, weak, heavy, and drained of strength. And I was feeling so hungry. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything. The worst of the pain was gone. The deep tear in my thigh no longer ache as badly as before, and the cut at my neck was only a dull ache. But why keep me alive after putting a blade to my throat? Kill-Save-Kill technique. The moment I tried to pull myself to sit, the door opene
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-09-28
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