Like a tomb. Abigail lay in her bed in her dark room, eyes open, staring at nothing. Although the windows were cracked to allow in the cool night air—something she did year-round because she couldn’t bear a stuffy room—her body was bathed in sweat. She gave the covers an awkward toss, and they slid halfway off the bed with the tangled sheets and light blanket draping across her knees. She wanted to kick them free, but of course she couldn’t kick. She waited for anger or bitterness to swell at her helplessness, but the old emotions refused to come. Instead she only felt sad. Lonely. Dead inside.Today she’d laughed. Laughed so hard tears rolled. And her comment hadn’t even been that funny. It was as though years of bottled-up laughter had been waiting for an excuse to pour out, and Suzy’s wide-eyed reaction gave her permission to pop the cork. The laughter had felt so good, so cleansing, so freeing. Why had she denied herself the expression of merriment for so long?She knew why.
