Vivienne lay on her bed with her eyes wide open. The room was dark, the sheets tangled around her legs, and her head was pounding from too many thoughts. Sleep refused to come, like it always did whenever André's voice echoed back into her skull.
She turned over, kicked the sheets, then sat up again, muttering like a madwoman.
His words kept looping in her brain. That one simple question.
"Your parents. What were they like?"
Vivienne grabbed a pillow and pressed it against her face, groaning so hard it sounded like a scream muffled into feathers.
"Why the fuck am I even thinking about this?" she hissed at herself, throwing the pillow across the room. It landed with a dull thud, and she glared at it like it had personally insulted her.
She got up and started pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Her hands clutched at her hair.
