22 - The Last One Standing (Part 2)

When her eyes opened again, she lay on a bed drenched in sweat. The same bed she had been sleeping in every night for over a week. The one in which she had dreamt the most incredible dreams.

She had been dreaming the same dream for four nights—being chased by a werewolf with Caleb’s face and finally ending when she touched the concealed painted canvas. And every time, she would wake up sweaty with her ugly birthmark feeling like it was on fire. Like she felt that night and the three nights that had gone before. There was no meaning in it, at least none she could hope to find. What does it mean? Maybe Josh knows something.

The night lamp was on, driving Her eyes darted from the old wooden clock, its hands displaying the time as 4 AM to the open window on her right. The pale curtains fluttered as wintry winds swept past it, hiding and showing the white moon against a dark field becoming whole slowly. A chill reverberated down her spine, but Eira couldn’t say whether it was because of the