The sound of heels pierces the silence. A cadence I now know all too well. My skin prickles with awareness before I even open my eyes. There’s a foreign giddiness bubbling through my veins, and I can almost feel the invisible string grow lax between us as she approaches me. Mercy stands at the opposite end of the bathhouse, near the stone steps leading into the water. The warm lighting of the candles atop the chandeliers illuminates her face, smooth like marble, devoid of any real emotion.
