It was late at night, and the house was quiet, blanketed in a soft silence. Isabella blinked her sleepy eyes open, her throat feeling dry like sandpaper. She reached out for her water bottle by the side table but it was empty. With a small groan, she sat up and slowly got out of bed.
Her arms were healing, but she still moved a little stiffly, walking like a tired little penguin wobbling across the floor. "Ugh, why is the kitchen so far..." she mumbled to herself, dragging her feet sleepily.
She was wearing her favorite comfy night set—an oversized white shirt with matching loose pants, both decorated with tiny pink strawberries. The shirt sleeves fell over her hands, and her hair was loosely tied in a bun, a few strands framing her face. She looked like a sleepy cartoon character who had wandered out of bed in search of treasure.
No one was around. Or at least, she hoped not.
