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Expansion.

Facility Nine.

Nyssa.

I closed my eyes.

My Nyssa.

One line led directly into the next.

The limp.

Her beautiful twisted thumb.

The drag of her foot.

Christ.

She.

Paid.

For.

My.

War.

19

NYSSA

I cracked open my eyes and lay still. Waiting. For the stretch. For the ache. For the familiar sounds that’d become part of the house. Nothing came. No footsteps. No distant voices. No kettle. No movement from the rest of the house.

Just the ticking clock.

I didn’t like it.

The floor was cold. Somewhere a crack or a crevice was letting in the frigid air. I shivered, reached for the gown draped over end of my bed and pulled it on, wrapping it tight, then froze.

The tray sat on the dresser.

The plate of fruit gone.

I moved closer. Reached out. My fingers brushed the empty cup.

Cold.

Long cold.

I stood there longer than I should’ve. It was the tray. I should’ve felt… more. More alive. More purposeful. More warmth. Instead it made the room feel emptier. The food and the tea finished. Proof that last night happened. Proof that he was there.

My gaze drifted to the door.

Nothing.

No footsteps.