He came again. This time, he was shouting. Even through the silent feed, I could see the veins in his neck. Elara was backed against the wall, keys clutched in her fist like a tiny, useless dagger.
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The light in my cramped apartment was always the same sickly yellow, the color of old coffee stains and desperation. My only window faced a brick wall. My only companion, for the last six months, had been a blinking green light on a small, black box: my webcam. Elara was backed against the wall, keys clutched