Lena's POV
My room was small. Functional. where the walls were thinner and the windows smaller and no one walked past unless they had a reason to be there. I had been in this room for years. I knew every crack in the ceiling, every loose stone in the floor, every sound the building made at night.
I was sitting on my bed in the early morning. Not yet dressed. Not yet performing the day. My hands were in my lap. My hair was loose. The light through the window was gray and cold.
I was thinking about the scream.
I was honest with myself, here, in this room where no one could read my face. I had no reason to lie to myself. Lying to yourself was how you made mistakes. And I could not afford mistakes.
I knew who he was. I knew immediately, the moment I saw him in the corridor. The particular stillness of him. The way he stood. The way he turned his head when he heard my footsteps. I had seen him a hundred times.
He was supposed to be mine.
