Within fifteen minutes, I’d washed my face of morning tears, freshened up in the bathroom mirror with a little lip gloss, and tied my hair into a ponytail, a few ringlets framing my face to shield the lack of sleep. Changing out of my loose-fitted pajamas, I put on a simple long-sleeve shirt with a V-neck collar and a pair of ripped jeans I found on the bottom of my dresser.
Externally, I looked decent enough to make conversation with Caleb, but internally, I felt like the stereotypical hysterical woman. It was just a letter, I could hear some say. Yeah, a serial killer is targeting you. Yeah, you’d once been in his grasp years ago. And, yeah, you got away by the skin of your teeth and left with amnesia. But that’s no reason to take time to process everything, huddling within the comfort
