Yavannah Constantine
I looked like shit.
My eyes were swollen, as if I had been crying for days straight, only I hadn't been crying. For three days, I had hardly slept a wink, and when I did mistakenly doze off, it felt like someone was around me, lurking in the shadows and ready to strike. I felt caged and wanted nothing more than to leave this room, to have my room searched for hidden cameras and wiretapping devices, but I thought against it.
I had burned the parcel the next day, but I couldn't bring myself to throw away the note. It stood by my bedside table, glaring and haunting me like a reminder of imminent doom. What to do was a question I had no answer for.
I was going to focus on my audition, and after that, I would figure out the bullshit asshole who had the audacity to spy on me.