The digital clock glowed a muted, neon red: 5:30 AM. Gray light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting the bedroom in a haze of charcoal and silver. Sarah lay pinned between two weights, her breathing shallow. To her left, Aunt Elara was a motionless heap under the duvet, her chest rising and falling in the slow, drug-induced rhythm of sleeping pills. To her right, Uncle Caleb lay on his back, his broad chest bare, the muscles of his torso sculpted like granite in the dim light.