PENELOPE'S POV

The room was a complete mess.

Books were everywhere, ripped, scattered, stepped on. Pages lay open, some torn in half. A chair had fallen over, one of its legs broken. The curtains were torn and hanging off, barely clinging to the rail. A shelf had crashed to the floor, spilling its books and glass decorations.

In the silence, a clock hanging across the bed ticked. The hands weren't rotating, just forth and back.

Carefully, I slipped out of the bed and wrapped my ...