Screams from the Abyss

Trepidation

In a dimly lit room, where shadows dance along the walls, casting an air of intimacy. Miss Thompson awakens slowly, her eyes fluttering open as her gaze fixates on the ceiling above. Her mind becomes a chaotic jumble of thoughts, emotions swirling within her like a tempestuous storm.

Her brows furrow slightly, creating a crease on her forehead, revealing the depth of her contemplation. The room is filled with a charged silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of Angel's tranquil breathing, filling the air with an unspoken vulnerability.

Reluctantly, Miss Thompson turns her gaze towards the side, where Angel lies peacefully, her body wrapped in the sheets like a cocoon. Her breathing, slow and steady, harmonizes with the hushed melody of the room, painting an image of serenity.

Miss Thompson's face becomes a canvas of conflicting emotions, her features a delicate interplay of longing, uncertainty, and a hint of regret. Her lips part, as if seeking solace or an explanation, but