The faint warmth Brinley had felt downstairs was a distant memory. The higher she climbed, the colder it became, the temperature dropping with every step she took toward her room. She had no idea when the heat had been turned off, but now, a deep, biting cold had settled in.
"She's trying to freeze us to death," Brinley said, her breath catching in her throat.
"She wants to make our lives a living hell," Sally corrected her. Not long ago, they had all been trying to do the same to Starla, tormenting her relentlessly, ensuring she lost her child and never knew a day of peace. Now, the tables had turned. They were the ones whose lives had become a living hell.
Brinley walked over and squeezed Sally's comforter. "It's this thick and you're still cold?"
The blanket was substantial, yet Sally was shivering uncontrollably beneath it.
"The mattress pad is thin. It offers no warmth," Sally explained. She'd assumed the central heating would be enough and hadn't bothered with thicker bedding. Who could have predicted Starla would pull a stunt like this?
"Aren't there any extra blankets?" Brinley asked, already heading for the closet. She remembered that spare bedding was always stored on the top shelf.
Just as she was about to find a stool to climb up, Sally's voice stopped her. "I already checked. She took them all."
Brinley froze, a chill running through her that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. She took them all? Starla was ruthless. What was this, if not round-the-clock torment? Depriving them of sleep even in the dead of night.
Brinley took a deep, shaky breath. "So, this is her version of a living hell."
After a long day of working in the pet enclosures, she was covered in a foul stench, grime, and even flecks of animal waste and fur. All she wanted was a hot shower to wash away the day's filth. But Starla, in her cruelty, had denied them even that simple comfort.
"Maybe we should sleep together tonight?" Sally suggested after a moment's thought.

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