Tick tock. The grandfather clock is a constant reminder that everything was not a dream. You couldn’t succumb to sleep, for the weight on your chest bears dread and pain. You felt the side of the bed dip down, a rough hand reaching down to brush the stray hands of your hair away from your face — since when have you been holding your breath and pretending to sleep?

“I apologize,” A tender voice murmurs from above. “I know you're upset, but understand that I can't permit you to leave."