Kaya's POV. 

 

I have a black towel in my hands, which are shaking right now. I can't even breathe well. It's morning, and the light from the sun is radiating into the room, supposedly bringing me warmth, but all I feel inside me is a chill. 

 

I'm shivering, not from sickness but from a grasp of fear. It holds me like it's some second personality, and I can't help it. 

 

"I need to wash more. I need to wash more." I've been whispering this to myself, or more like muttering the words to myself. 

 

As much as my skin is irritated, I have washed myself off of the scent of...