Felicia's POV
Has this house always been this quiet? at what point did I grow accustomed to the sound of breaking plates, light cursing, and explosions from failed experiments? When did I grow to anticipate the smell of singed cushions, burning books, and dust?
I never knew how deeply she had burrowed into me till the first five nights she was gone my legs would always find their way to her room like I've always done since the day she came here, when she insisted on sleeping she had a habit of phasing through walls, I'd always wake up in the dead of night to carry her back to her room because I found her lying on the kitchen counter, the hallway, inside her shower, or just sunk deep between the floor boards, she got better at sleeping and would rarely phase anymore but I got used to it and habits die hard
