Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
My eyes finally close, and my thoughts drift back to Brom’s dark eyes, to Kat’s blue ones, to the inhuman voice inside Brom that was ready to do one’s bidding.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I open my eyes, sitting up straight.
It’s back.
Am I dreaming?
I dig my nails into my skin again, droplets of blood welling to the surface.
I’m not dreaming.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I hold my breath and listen, shaking my hand, a splatter of blood falling to the bedcover.
Thump.
It’s right outside the door. I can feel it there, the energy seeping in. I can almost see it like black tar flowing underneath the doorframe, coming across the floor toward me. Wanting me. Craving me.
Knock.
I jump, my heart bucking wildly.
She’s here. She’s here.
Vivienne Henry is here, and she’s knocking on my door.
Knock.
“Oh Jesus,” I murmur, my words sounding far away, like I spoke them in another lifetime.
Knock.
I find myself getting to my feet, even though my knees are shaking. Every part of me is shaking with fear because she wants me, she wants me.
Maybe she wants all of us.
“Watch your head,” a voice whispers from the other side of the door, coarse and metallic and faint, barely even a whisper.
I am a dead man.
The doorknob begins to turn.
A slow creak of metal that echoes in the room.
A turn left.
A turn right.
A push forward.
The lock catches, stopping the door from opening.
Sweet Jesus.
I watch wide-eyed, breath shaking, expecting another try, another push, another chance for the creature to get inside.
But there’s nothing.
Silence.
Suddenly, the clock starts ticking again, the sound filling the air, making me realize that time had actually stopped. I glance at the clock. It’s one a.m. again.
I run to the bathroom and vomit, sickness rolling through me, the fear eating me alive without me even knowing I was its meal.
Then I splash water on my face from the basin.
I avoid looking in the mirror.
Something tells me to avoid looking in the mirror.
Quickly, I turn around and go back into my room. The only sound is the ticking clock. The doorknob doesn’t move. The feeling of something oozing under the door to eat me alive is gone.
But then…
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Off in the distance. Far down the hall.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I slide on my slippers, grab one of the candlesticks, and go to the door. I take a deep breath, and before I can change my mind, I unlock it with my key and step out into the hallway.
Just in time to see the body disappear around the corner, those grey, dead feet dragging on the floor. I make a point of locking my door behind me and then start walking after the body, following the trail. There’s blood again, and I quickly touch some of it, pressing my wet fingers on my tongue.
It’s blood. It’s disgusting.
I spit it out and wipe my fingers on my pants and continue down the hall.
I should talk myself out of this. I should stop and go back to my room. Lock the door and go to sleep.
But I keep going. I round the corner and see the body going down the staircase.
I follow, my steps quick, and yet by the time I get to the main floor, where the classrooms are, she’s already far ahead of me. Down another hall.
I follow, walking faster now, the candle flame quivering as I go, and I pray it doesn’t go out. Without that light, I can’t go on in the dark. I haven’t mastered how to control fire yet; I don’t have that skill.
I whip around the corner, my breath heavy now, and a door is open near one of the classrooms, dead, lifeless feet being dragged inside.
It’s the custodian’s closet, or so I thought. I had never given it a second glance before, but now that I am looking through the door, I see that there isn’t a broom in sight. Instead, it opens to the top of a narrow stone staircase leading down.
Thump.
The thumps continue going down, down, down, and harder now. Wet smacks against stone.
A shiver rocks through me.
I reach back and push the door open as far as it will go, the hinges creaking ominously, then take off one of my slippers and place it at the corner so that the door can’t close on me and lock me in here. Then I put my bare foot on the first step, and I wait.
You don’t have to do this, I tell myself. The door could still close on you. You’ll be locked down here with that thing. No one may ever find you again.
Part of me is unbothered by that fact. Of never being found.
So I walk down and down and down, curiosity to be my demise.
The further down the stairs I go, the more damp the air feels, bringing it with not just the smells of wet stone and earth but also something herbal. Sage and tarragon and the sharp bite of cut stems mixed with the rotten smell of sulfur and dead flowers.