The sunlight hit like a blade to the eyes. Too sharp, too bright, too loud. I stood at my post outside the packhouse, broom in hand, trying to look like I was sweeping the stone steps when really my head was tilting forward in little jerks. I hadn't slept. Not a second. The night had been one long, jagged hallucination, his voice carving holes in my thoughts until even silence felt suspicious. Now, the weight in my skull was so heavy it kept pulling me down. At some point, I realized my eyes were closed while standing.
That was when I heard the first laugh.
"Look at her," someone muttered. "She's sleeping on her feet like a cow."
I blinked, head snapping up. Three pack warriors leaned against the railing, arms crossed, smirking.
"She's drooling."
"She's gonna fall on her face."
