Sophia’s POV

I stare at the small white skirt on the floor, fixing my eyes on the bloodstain that painfully reminds me of what I’ve been stripped of.

Tears drip out of my eyes, dropping onto my arm resting against the bathtub.

The water is so warm, just what my body needs after that seizure and scary experience.

The bath bomb smells of vanilla candy. There’s a bathrobe in baby pink, a small towel in the same color, coconut-flavored shampoo, and a bowl of untouched marshmallows—he ...