Raven pushed her bedroom door shut harder than she meant to. The sharp crack echoed for a second before the room fell silent again—too silent, the kind that pressed in on her ears.
She didn't move.
Her breath hitched, then refused to settle. Instead of slowing, it came fast and shallow, like her lungs had forgotten how to hold air. A tightness crept into her chest, faint at first, then steadily tightening until every inhale felt incomplete.
What did I just agree to…?
The thought slipped in uninvited, jagged and unfinished, but heavy enough to shake whatever composure she'd been clinging to.
Her hands trembled.
She lifted them slowly, staring at her fingers as if they belonged to someone else. At first, nothing seemed wrong. Then she saw it, faint redness blooming across her skin, uneven and irritated, small raised patches where her nails must have dragged without her noticing.
The itch came next.
