Seraphine's POV
The darkness pressed against the windows as night claimed the forest around us. I couldn't bring myself to lie down on that soft bed. Sleep meant vulnerability. Sleep meant the terrors would return - those twisted visions of thorns piercing my skin, crimson drops staining everything I touched, cruel laughter echoing until it became my own screams. The thought of Theodore hearing me cry out in the night made my stomach twist with shame. He already saw me as fragile. I wouldn't give him more evidence of my weakness.
The cold wooden floor felt safer than the inviting warmth of the mattress. I pressed my spine against the wall and wrapped my arms around my knees, seeking the discomfort that would keep my mind sharp. The chill crept through my thin nightgown, raising goosebumps along my arms, but I welcomed it. Pain was better than the helplessness that came with dreams.
