Regan woke up the next morning in the same position she went to sleep in. Immediately, her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was 7:58, he was going to be here soon.
Immediately she jumped up from her position on her bed and ran to the low lying table in her room and sat down, her feet nervously tapping the ground. She had overslept, he would know.
'7:59,' Regan thought to herself as her eyes darted up to the clock again. 'Any second now.'
She felt her hand throb again and looked down at the marks on her wrist. They were ever so vibrant with dried blood at the tips of her wounds, lining the ugly purple-reddish cuts on her wrist.
