6 Digit Passcode Read Online Free Page A

along my neck and jaw-line – anywhere blood has touched me. I watch droplets of red water roll off of my hair when I wring it out. My body aches, even though most of my pain is not physical.
    I stay in the water until my fingers and toes look like prunes. The air feels cold on my bare skin when I get out, and I dry myself off as quickly as I can. I only brought one pair of pajamas, so I will have to remember to wash them in the mornings if they are dirty, so that they will be dry by night time.
    I feel more content after my bath, more comfortable with my situation. The shock of my parents’ deaths has worn off, leaving me tired and depressed. But I am clean, and dry, and safe, and so is Fray. That will have to be enough for now.
    I’m so exhausted I almost collapse into bed immediately after I enter my room, but I stop myself. I sit on the edge of the bed and unzip my suitcase.
    I pull out the music box my mother gave me and set it on the nightstand beside the mattress. I wind it up, and it plays a melody that my mother used to sing to me before I went to sleep every night.
    I unearth my teddy bear too, pulling it into my chest and wrapping my arms around it. In the back of my mind, I think about what the kids at school would say if they saw me holding onto a stuffed animal so tightly. I am too old to keep this with me, but I don’t care. For just a moment, I want to pretend that I am five years old again – that my mother is going to come into the room any minute and sing me to sleep.
    She doesn’t, and instead I fall asleep to the sound of the music box, with my teddy bear held tightly in my arms.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter three
     
     
    The first three days are the hardest.
    Roma tells me that I don’t need to go to school, or work, until I feel like I’m ready – the same goes for Fray. The problem is, I don’t think I will ever feel ready. What’s the point in pretending my life is back to normal when that couldn’t be farther from the truth? My parents are dead. I can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen.
    I do my best to help out when I can. I wash dishes every night, with Fray at my side drying them, and launder my own clothes on days when Roma is sewing. She teaches me what she can, and from her I learn basic stitches, how to iron clothing, and how to prepare the simplest of meals. I feel good knowing that I am helping – that I’m not just a freeloader – but I still don’t think I’m doing enough to repay them for what they’ve done for me and Fray. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’ve done enough.
    The second night, I hear Fray crying into his pillow beside me. I can feel the movements of his body shaking the mattress. I haven’t cried since our parents died, but it’s not because I’m not sad. I’m just trying to be brave, for Fray, and I’m glad he doesn’t have the same pressure on his shoulders. He can cry, let his deepest emotions flow out of him, and maybe someday he’ll feel liberated. I don’t think I will, but I’m trying.
    “Fray,” I say lightly, resting one hand on his shoulder. He’s facing away from me, but I can hear his sniffles through his back.
    He sucks a wet breath in through his nose and says, “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you awake.”
    I feel like a hole has been punched in my heart. He shouldn’t be worrying about me.
    “I was already awake,” I counter. “I can’t sleep either.”
    There’s a beat of silence, and my words trail away into the dark. The only window in the room filters in moonlight, illuminating the music box on the nightstand. It glitters like it’s made of gold.
    “What are you thinking about?” Fray asks me. I can tell from the way his voice is