Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

every instinct — they moved toward Ward 4. The hallway was wrong. It felt longer than it should've been. Like the building was stretching around them. Anya grabbed Trevor's arm. On the walls — both sides — were handprints. Dozens of them. Burned into the paint. Black and grey. Like ash.