107
When the light flickered back on, my breath caught in my throat.
When the light flickered back on, Sophia’s palm was pressed against the door so eerily that for a second, I almost believed I was dreaming. Or maybe this was just another symptom of my schizophrenia—hallucinations warping reality, bending it into something it wasn’t. But no, this was real. The cold, flickering red glow was real. The uneven rise and fall of Sophia’s breath beside me was real. The quiet, suffocating dread that curled around my lungs was real.
Sophia turned to me again, her voice barely above a whisper, her words laced with something I couldn’t quite decipher. “How much do you really know about Adeline?”
For a moment, I had no answer. My thoughts stilled. I didn’t know how to respond because the truth was, I didn’t know her at all. I only knew the surface—the pieces of her that were easy to see. I was aware of her presence, of the way she carried herself, the way people listened when she spoke. But did I know her? Did I understand her? No.
“I don’t,” I admitted, and almost reluctantly, the question left my lips before I could stop it. “Who is she?”
Sophia didn’t answer. Instead, she rattled the doorknob. Once. Twice. Three times. The noise was soft at first, just a gentle jostle of metal against metal. But then it grew, swelling, spreading, the sound bouncing off the empty hallway, filling up the silence between us. My stomach twisted.
I stepped forward, reaching for her hand, my fingers curling around hers in an attempt to still her movements. “Sophia, stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you in bed? Why are you telling me all this?”
She paused, her breath hitching. For the first time since we left my room, she hesitated. Her eyes flickered behind us, into the dark, searching for something. Or someone. She leaned in slightly, so close I could feel the faint tremor in her body. “There’s someone behind this door,” she breathed.
A slow, cold dread crept down my spine. “I know,” I whispered back, my voice almost hoarse. “I heard them earlier. They were banging on it. Clarissa tried to convince me I imagined it.”
Sophia nodded, as if she expected that. “That’s what they do,” she murmured under her breath, her fingers still resting on the handle. The words barely left her lips when she suddenly inhaled sharply.
The light flickered again.
My skin crawled.
She kept talking, her voice coming out in soft, measured words, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
Because she had suddenly stopped.
Because a sharp, startled gasp had escaped her lips.
Because she was no longer looking at me.
Her eyes were fixed over my shoulder.
Into the darkness.
The flickering light buzzed above us, the glow stuttering, making the shadows dance and bend and stretch in ways they shouldn’t.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance behind me.
That was when I heard it.
The sound of footsteps.
Right behind us.
A\\N; BULK UPDATES DURING THE WEEKEND.
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