Clark POV
The sound of my mother's voice yelling from the kitchen pierced through the fog in my brain. "Clark! Get up, you're going to miss the flight!" she shouted again, louder this time, followed by the sound of her footsteps pounding up the stairs.
I groaned, burying my head deeper into the pillow. If only I could stay in this blissful ignorance, in the warmth and comfort of my bed, pretending that I wasn't about to return to that hellhole.
Mom yelled at me to wake up again or I'd miss the flight.
God, I wanted to.
Last night I'd prayed not to open my eyes again, because waking up meant going back—to that place. Back to Zeeprey, back to the land that pretended to has the best university but was really a den of monsters. I'd have taken a fever, an earthquake, divine lightning—anything—if it meant I could stay in my bed, in this house, in a world where the worst thing that could happen was burning the toast.
But fate, apparently, had a cruel sense of humor.
