Three steps across the room . . . Cora twisted the ring at her finger, round and round, thumbing the little coffin-shaped box.
A door into the gloom . . . It took everything in her to mask the terror within, to force the determination above the fear, to feign the transfixture under which it believed she'd been placed.
A hole into her tomb . . . This was the only way to get it out of her head, out of her heart--because as much as she lived in it, it lived in her, and running from it would eat her from within.
Once buried, now exhumed . . . A crossing over and into, and then she was gone, her crimson chiffon disappearing in a silent billow behind her.
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Hilltop House
الرعبHilltop House always remembered its first, how closely it watched them, how much they meant to it . . . and what it did to them. But Hilltop House has yet to find another like its first, until 𝘴𝘩𝘦 moves in. Cora is angry, and weird, and entirely...
