Chapter 82

• The room was bathed in soft, muted light. Long shadows stretched across the floor, creeping slowly up the furniture, the wall, and the draped curtains as Greta tossed restlessly on her bed.
• Every now and then, a whimper would escape her lips, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
• With a suddenness that was almost jarring, she sat upright. Her tangled hair, dark and glossy, hung around her face, sticking to her sweat-slicked forehead and cheeks.