The morning light slipped quietly through the edges of the curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls of Isabella's room. But the warmth that usually made her feel cozy and safe felt distant today… unreachable.
Her eyes slowly fluttered open, but they didn't shine with their usual softness.
They were dull. Heavy. Haunted.
She hadn't had that nightmares since last month.
Not since she came here.
Not since she found warmth in the kitchen, smiles from Clara, soft calls from Lina, and laughter with Jay… not since she had started baking, watching cartoons, hugging her plushies, and sleeping in a real bed without fear of hearing footsteps at midnight.
But last night…
That woman's flawless skin. The memories. Her own scars.
It had cracked something open.
And all of it came pouring back—the shouting, the belt, the glass, the fire in her throat.
