“Yours,” it whispered, in Sandie’s voice.
Sandie appeared at the window. Not as a victim. As a fury. Last Night in Soho
That night’s dream was different. Sandie fought back. She stabbed Jack with a broken bottle. Then again. And again. Then she dragged his body to the building’s old coal cellar and bricked him into the wall. “Yours,” it whispered, in Sandie’s voice
