Elena’s POV

The kitchen was quiet when I stepped inside.

For a moment I simply stood there, breathing slowly, letting the warmth of the room wrap around me like a thin blanket. My fingers still stung from where the chair leg had crushed them earlier, and the faint throbbing seemed to pulse with every beat of my heart.

I walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

The water ran warm over my hands.

I rolled up my sleeves slowly, as if I truly intended to help with the cooking.

In truth, ...