The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city leaking through the curtains. They didn't bother to light the lamp in this room.
Clyde and Mina lay on separate sides of the bed, their bodies finally still after hours of tension.
Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to say. Words felt heavy and unnecessary. Exhaustion pressed down on them heavily, dull, and absolute.
Clyde lay on his back, one arm resting across his chest, eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling above.
A thin fracture ran across it like a scar, splitting into smaller lines.
He followed them absentmindedly, as if tracing paths he couldn't escape.
Six people. The number surfaced without warning.
The next, faces followed,then voices, the sound of panic. The moment their eyes had turned to him, trusting that he would lead them through, protect them, and keep them alive.
