Lily sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa at the foot of Zayn’s massive bed. The bathrobe Martha had given her after tending to her cuts felt too thin, too revealing. She tugged it tighter around herself, wincing as the movement aggravated the fresh cuts on her palms.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Martha asked, hovering by the door. Her weathered face was creased with worry.
Lily shook her head firmly and pointed toward the darkened sky visible through the window. It was already well past midnight. Martha needed rest too.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she signed, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Go rest.’
Martha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Alright…” She hesitated, then added in a whisper, “If anything happens, anything at all, you make as much noise as you can. I’ll get here as soon as I can.”
Lily nodded. Though she worried about what would happen, deep down, she knew she would be safe.
