Braelyn's POV
The drawer was locked. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Why was it locked? To protect it from ghosts.
I yanked at the handle again, harder this time, as the damn thing would magically give in if I was stubborn enough. It didn't budge. Not even a little rattle. It's just solid, mockingly resistant to my force. I clicked my tongue irritated as my temples started to throb.
This was just great. It was excellent. I just couldn't understand why it was locked in the first place. In an attic nobody used, in a room that felt like it hadn't been touched in years. Unless someone was hiding something they didn't want found.
My stomach twisted. That bad feeling I'd been carrying since the nightmare got heavier, pressing down on my chest.
There was only one other person who could have free access here aside from my late parents. Me. What were they hiding from me?
