Riley stumbled out of bed, his heart still racing from the nightmare.
The vivid images lingered in his mind—the children's screams, the smell of burning flesh, and his sister's cold, unforgiving face.
Shaking it off, he stood up, his body drenched in sweat. The room felt too small, too suffocating, as though the walls were closing in on him.
He ran a hand through his hair and glanced toward the bathroom. Maybe a bath would wash away the remnants of his dream, or at least dull the sharp edges of the guilt gnawing at his mind.
The bathroom was dim, the faint light flickering above the mirror. He twisted the tap, letting the water run until steam filled the room.
Stripping down, Riley stepped into the tub, wincing as the hot water stung his skin before easing into it.
He submerged himself, leaning back and letting his head rest against the cool ceramic.
