It took her a few minutes to regain her composure. She raised her hand, shakily wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. Her sleep gown was already damp with sweat, sticking wetly to her body.
She lifted the silk quilt, got out of bed, took out a new sleep gown from the wardrobe, and entered the bath chamber.
After changing into the clean sleep gown, Sophie Sullivan stood in front of the mirror, staring at her own face.
She gently covered half of her face, scarred and crisscrossed, ugly enough to be terrifying.
Who wanted to kill her? Who had destroyed her face? And who had thrown her into the asylum?
Various questions flashed through her mind. She held her aching head and squatted down uncomfortably, her slender body curled into a ball, moaning painfully on the ground.
Thomas Shannon returned, his cold eyes scanning the bedroom, not seeing the maniac.
His gaze shifted to the closed bath chamber door.
