Lark had been feeling out of sorts all morning. The knowledge that there had been more removals left her unsettled, and she'd eventually pinpointed why. What if they just kept removing people until only a few were left alone? Something about that idea unnerved her. It made her want to run around the house and force the thought out of her head. She just needed to keep busy. Somehow, by any means possible. She'd actually cleaned her entire bathroom this morning, even though she certainly hadn't been here long enough to dirty it up. While Rupert was bordering on the edge of a panic attack, Lark was sitting by her window and writing a letter to her brother and sister. When she heard his calls, her blood went cold.
“Anybody there? I think I’m...dying?”
For a moment Lark was frozen in fear, and in the next instant she was bolting for her door. All kinds of worst-case scenario images were flickering through her brain. Someone could have been attacked. Or accidentally cut a finger off using something in the kitchen. Or given themselves food poisoning. Or... Lark found herself blinking as she ran out into the hallway and skidded to the stop. Or there could be a wet, naked man in the hallway. Lark forced her wide eyes onto his face, face only, good sweet Lord, and took a deep breath. "What's wrong?"