[CAMI]
I dream of Daniel.
Not his face—I can't seem to remember that. Just the maroon shirt he wore. Just the way his mouth skimmed my neck as he told me not to work too hard.
It was just a random night. A random hookup. A way to blow off steam before an eventful day at work.
And now he’s lying on the floor like Elio Mancini.
There’s a hole in the middle of his forehead. Spiders crawl out of it instead of blood.
Zeke hovers over him, gun still warm in his hand. Like it means nothing. As if Daniel was a weed to be pulled. Just a minor inconvenience.
I wake with a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. My hands grip the sheets, pulling them toward me, but the bed is too soft. Too clean. No color anywhere, just white on white.
I know where I am.
Zeke’s room.
Where I walked int
