Fred sat heavily on his bed edge, his skin feeling rough against the navy blue t-shirt.
Even though there was silence in the room, he strains his ears in an attempt to hear something coming from the corridor below.
He heard the door slam shut some minutes later. He was unsure whether the noise indicated that Carson had left or that Annabel had opened the door for him.
The latch’s heavy straightforward click had sealed his doom but kept him from getting the response he required.
He was exhausted but not from lack of sleep but from a deep bone-weary exhaustion.
It was weariness from all the defense.
With a steady, excruciating burn on his knuckles he lowered his head into his hands.
He kept thinking about the picture of Carson's hand extended toward Annabel filled with sincere re
