Goodnight
"Night, April."
April looked up at her friend, stifling a yawn. "Night, Taylor. See you tomorrow."
Taylor went into her bedroom and got changed into her pyjamas, pausing only once to look at the bruises around her ribs and stomach in the mirror. Donatello was right - they were starting to look like they were healing. She snuggled under the covers and picked up a book.
Then she read, and read, and read. No matter how much she yawned and blinked tiredness out of her eyes, she didn't want to turn the light off and go to sleep just yet.
If one of them broke into the flat once, they could do it again. The thought made her feel sick with fear.
She'd thought being kidnapped from a flat only happened in horror films - and for a few terrifying hours, she'd lived in one.
And when she did eventually turn the light off, she didn't fall asleep. Instead, she stared up at the dark ceiling, heart racing and eyes wide open.
She didn't feel safe. She wouldn't, for a good long while.