Elena Torres (POV)

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling thirsty, my throat was dry and sore. The room was pitched black and Andrew's side of the bed was cold as ice. I could remember us going to bed together.

I furrowed my brow as I groped through the room, running my hands over the door, I lowered it and found the handle. Relief coursed through me as I pushed the door open, a gust of fresh air slapped me in the face. Walking down the hall to the kitchen to get water.

Hushed tones ...