Chapter 17

The suffocating sense of despair still lingered in her chest. Cynthia glanced around nervously. The room was warm and inviting, illuminated by a soft, yellow glow from a Baroque-style wrought iron night lamp. Through the sheer curtains, the world outside was pitch black. The night remained silent and still. She sat up, reached for her phone, and reinstalled Instagram. Once the app was downloaded, she created a new account, leaving the profile picture blank, making it look like a generic bot account....