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her anxiety was betrayed by her fingers playing nervously with the sheet over her. Irene hadn't held his gaze, lowering it to her fingers. it was as if she were in prison under the authority of his presence and his gaze.
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how she had ended up here was still unclear in her mind. but one thing was certain: it was because of him. Irene couldn't explain where this certainty came from, her mind was too complex for her to understand.
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the sheets were immaculate white, like the walls of the room which reflected the daylight. she didn't like it. too much white, too much light, not enough comfort...
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