55
The knob twisted so slowly it felt like time had stopped.
I held my breath, frozen, clutching the sheet tight against my chin. My heart was hammering in my chest, so loud it felt like it echoed in the silence.
But then, nothing happened.
I sat in bed, staring at the door, waiting for it to open. It didn’t. The knob stayed still. My eyes darted down to the gap at the bottom of the door just as a shadow flickered past. Quick, like a blink. Gone so fast I almost thought I imagined it.
Maybe I had.
Just like I’d imagined so much today—the strange shadows in Dominic’s cabin, the figure I thought I saw before the gunfight. It was all starting to blur together, leaving me with that gnawing, familiar fear I hadn’t felt in years.
It was the fear of my mind turning against me again.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, as I curled deeper into the bed. Schizophrenia. The word made my chest ache just thinking about it. For years, it had been a dark cloud over my life, stealing my childhood in pieces. The figures in the corners of my room, the whispers I couldn’t shut out, the constant second-guessing of what was real and what wasn’t. It had been hell.
But I’d fought it. My family was there for me. My father was. Through endless therapy and medication, I’d clawed my way out of the worst of it. For the past few years, it had been quiet. I hadn’t seen anything. No figures. No voices. No shadows.
Until today.
I bit my lip, the pounding in my head making my vision blur. Maybe I was just tired. Stressed. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was. Maybe the shadow was just a trick of the light.
But deep down, I knew better.
I pulled the sheet off me, my fingers trembling as I climbed out of bed. A sudden dizziness overtook me, my legs threatening to give out as I took steps towards the door, the tiles cold beneath my feet.
I wrapped my hand around the doorknob, twisting it slowly. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest, and my lower lip quivered despite my best effort to steady it. Counting down in my head—three, two, one—I yanked the door open and jumped back, bracing myself for… for what? Nothing.
The hallway stretched ahead, silent and warm under the glow of the overhead lights. My ears strained for a sound—anything. But there was only the slow creak of the door behind me, loud enough to make me wince. I peeked back into the room, the bed still rumpled where I’d been. It called to me, promising safety beneath its covers. I could crawl back under the sheet and wait for morning.
Or I could step out. Face whatever had made those shadows shift beneath the door.
The thought of Dominic flashed through my mind. He was downstairs, probably sprawled out on the couch. And what if he was in danger? The thought propelled me forward, my bare feet pressing softly against the wooden floorboards. But no matter how carefully I moved, the creaks beneath my weight betrayed me, echoing in the empty hallway.
Shadows danced under the doors lining the walls, as though daring me to come closer. Each one seemed alive, shifting and writhing like something waited just behind. I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes forward. Halfway down the hallway, the door to my room creaked.
I froze, breath caught in my throat, and turned slowly. The door I’d left open was now slightly ajar, the warm light from inside spilling out. Nothing moved. I waited, tense, but all I heard was the pounding of my own pulse.
The hallway stretched impossibly longer with every step as I pressed forward. Finally, I reached the top of the stairs and stopped, gripping the railing for balance. My ears strained again, catching only the faint hum of music filtering up from downstairs. The melody was soft and slow, eerie now in the silence.
“Dominic?” I called, my voice shaky. No answer.
I took the first step down, then the second, my grip tightening on the banister. My heart raced faster with every creak of the stairs beneath me. “Dominic?” I called again, louder this time, my voice trembling. Still nothing.
By the time I reached the bottom, my palms were clammy. The hallway stretched out ahead of me, leading to the living room. Shadows loomed large in the dim light.
“Dominic?” I called a third time, my voice cracking.
As I stepped closer to the living room, I heard it—a sound so faint I thought I’d imagined it at first. A low, wet gurgling noise, followed by a grunt.
I froze, my body going cold. The air was heavy with a sharp metallic tang that burned my nostrils. Blood.
Shaking, I stepped forward, each movement slower than the last. My bare feet touched something slick, and when I looked down, my stomach twisted violently. A trail of dark, sticky blood stretched out before me, smeared as though something—or someone—had been dragged.
“Dominic!” I screamed this time, my voice breaking through the oppressive silence.
No response. Only the sound of gurgling and the occasional grunt.
My breath came in short gasps as I forced myself forward, following the trail of blood into the dining room. The music played on, discordant now against the chaos my mind was spinning. My hands trembled as I gripped the doorway and stepped inside.
What I saw stopped me cold.
Dominic was sprawled on the floor, his body convulsing weakly as blood pooled around him, soaking the wooden floorboards. Over him, a man crouched, his back broad and tense. In his hand, a curved sickle gleamed in the dim light, glistening crimson as it sank into Dominic's abdomen again and again. His insides splayed, chunks flying in the air.
Each thrust of the blade into his chest sent a sickening sound echoing through the room. Dominic’s legs twitched uncontrollably, and blood bubbled from his mouth, the sound of his gurgling filling the suffocating silence. My breath hitched in my throat, and I stood frozen in the doorway, my body trembling violently, unable to move, unable to scream.
The sight was grotesque, unreal, but every fiber of my being screamed that it was happening. My knees buckled as I clutched the doorway, nails scraping against the wood.
Finally, a scream tore its way out of my chest—loud, raw, and guttural.
The man over Dominic stopped. He turned his head slowly, his face gleaming with blood. My stomach churned as I recognized the sharp features, the cruel glint in his eyes, the way his lips twisted into a sickening grin.
Vaughn.
My mouth parted, and I stumbled back a step, the air around me growing cold and heavy. “No…” I whispered, barely audible.
Vaughn took a step toward me, the sickle dripping in his hand. Then another.
I couldn’t breathe. My whole body trembled, my limbs numb as his smile widened. I wanted to run, to scream again, but my legs refused to obey.
And then everything vanished.
I jolted awake, gasping, my breath escaping my lips in raggedy pants. I was bathed in sweat, lacing my forehead, my temples, soaking through my hair and my shirt. The sheet was twisted around my limps, most definitely from thrashing around in my sleep. It was morning now, sunrays perching through the drapes on the window, and into the room, bathing the entire space warmly. The lights painted the walls golden. Painted my fingers—as I lifted it, trying to ground myself in reality—golden. Painted—
Liquid dripped on my face. Once. Twice. Thrice. The droplets traced cool trails down to my neck, jolting me fully awake.
I blinked, the pounding in my head easing as my vision sharpened. Dominic leaned over me, his wet hair dripping, clearly fresh from a shower. The golden light spilling through the drapes framed him like some smug, insufferable painting. His olive skin glowed warmly, his sharp jawline catching the light. And that smile—puffy lips curving into a smirk, teeth flashing with barely concealed amusement.
“Morning, sunshine,” he drawled, leaning closer so another drop fell from his hair onto my cheek.
“Ugh, you’re a menace,” I muttered, rolling out of bed and tugging the sheet off me in one move. “Creep.”
“Creep?” he echoed, flopping lazily onto the bed, his grin growing wider. “You’re the one thrashing around like you were in a fight with your sheets. Should I be concerned?”
I ignored him, reaching down to grab the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. The cool air brushed my skin, and my eyes widened as I froze mid-motion.
I was bare. Completely bare. My boobs in the open.
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