The world returned in disjointed fragments…the harsh glare of light from the ceiling, the faint smell of herbs in the house… and a dull, thudding behind Genevieve's temples that felt like her skull was being struck from the inside. She lay motionless on her back, her fingers tangled in the soft fabric of her duvet, waiting for the room to stop spinning.
For a long, disorientating minute, she could not fathom why she was lying down in the middle of the day, nor why her chest felt so impossibly tight, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on her ribs. Then the bedroom door clicked open, swinging inward with a quiet sound, and two people stepped over the threshold with caution.
