Rain's POV:
The laughing just doesn't stop.
It threads through the dark like something alive—thin at first, almost distant, then louder, closer, curling around my thoughts until I can't tell whether it's real .
I turn onto my side, then my stomach, pulling the duvet tighter around me, but it only makes the sound swell.
I feel watched.
Not in the vague, nervous way people sometimes do—but in a precise, deliberate way.
As if whatever is laughing knows exactly where I am.
Knows I'm awake.
Waiting.
My body is drenched in sweat, sheets sticking to my skin.
The air feels thick, unmovable, pressing down on my chest.
I sit up abruptly, heart hammering so hard it hurts, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
Please let it stop.
I fumble blindly, shifting the duvet, trying to ground myself in something—anything—and my elbow clips the edge of the nightstand.
The glass bottle tips.
It shatters on the floor.
