Page 3 of Cursed

Another storm.

Always another storm.

My hands trembled as I reached up to wipe the sweat from my brow. I could still feel the phantom grip of the vines around my wrists, and I touched the skin gently, worried that I would feel the roughness of the bark under my fingers again.

In my dream— It was only a dream.

But I had been trapped—suffocated by the very essence of Withermarsh itself.

“Just a dream,” I whispered harshly. I pressed my palms against my heated cheeks, but even as I breathed, the lingering fear clutched tightly at my spine.

The silk sheets clung to my skin, and I kicked them away, hating the touch of them.

I pushed myself off the bed and stood on unsteady legs.

My heart still raced from the lingering terror of the nightmare—the memory of my stepbrothers’ faces as they’d watched my torment.

Was it possible for them to invade my dreams as well?

They had been powerful enough to break through the sigils and protections I had put on my bedroom—but my magic was no match for theirs. I was still safe in my new chambers…

Safe. What a joke.

I was a prisoner.

Drip.

The sound of water dripping from a faucet echoed strangely in the room's silence and goosebumps rippled over my flesh.

Drip.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from moaning in fear as my gaze turned toward the bathroom.

Drip.

Cold—it swept over me and icy fingers wrapped around my legs and pushed me forward.

“Avril—”

The whisper was everywhere. My mother’s voice.

Oh, gods—

I didn’t want to move, but my body wasn’t obeying my commands. I stumbled toward the bathroom and hesitated at the door.

Drip.

I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to know what was dripping.

Turn it off. Make it stop.

“Avril—”

I closed my eyes tight as the sound of dripping water echoed in my ears. It was painfully loud now.

“Look at meeee—”

I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself. My hand tightened into fists at my sides and my nails dug into my palms. The pain made me gasp as the bathroom came into focus.

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