Morning light filtered through the thin blinds of the guest room, casting sharp stripes of gold across the bare floor.
Niya woke up with a sharp, throbbing pressure behind her left temple. It was becoming a daily occurrence now—a dull, persistent ache that made her vision blur if she moved too quickly. Rubbing her thumb against her skin, she forced herself up, refusing to let the weakness win. She had a role to play, even if it was in a house that hated her.
Write a comment ...