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"Hump," Poppi muttered, eyes narrowing as she watched Daisy ascend the stairs. Her voice dripped with disdain before she turned back to her plate, as though Daisy were nothing more than a mild annoyance, something unworthy of her attention.
Daisy climbed the stairs slowly, deliberately, her hand tracing the railing as if to anchor herself to something solid. The house had a way of warping her sense of time—it had been three long years, since she had been here, but nothing had changed. The air was thick with that same oppressive silence, the kind that whispered all the terrible things left unsaid. Her stomach tightened as she neared the door to her old room.
