40
Dominic had been gone for thirty minutes, but it felt like hours. Every second dragged on, stretching my nerves tighter and tighter.
I curled up under the duvet, my body trembling uncontrollably. The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the cabin walls like it wanted to break in. Thunder rolled through the sky, deep and angry, shaking the windows. The air in the cabin was icy, and no matter how tightly I wrapped myself up, the cold crept in.
My chest felt heavy, my breaths shallow and uneven. My lips trembled, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding, loud and erratic, like it wanted to leap out of my chest. Every creak, every groan of the cabin made me flinch. The storm outside seemed alive, the wind wailing as though it carried voices with it.
And then I heard it. A sharp, distinct sound.
Glass shattering.
My eyes flew open, my breath hitching in my throat. I lay frozen for a moment, my body refusing to move as my mind raced. Did I really hear that? Or was it the fever playing tricks on me?
No. That wasn’t my imagination. It was real.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, overriding the weakness in my limbs. I shoved the duvet off, the cold air hitting me instantly, making me shudder. My bare legs felt like ice as I swung them over the side of the bed. Dominic’s shirt hung loosely on me, barely enough to keep me warm, but I didn’t care.
I scanned the room, my vision hazy from the fever, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. There was nothing. My panic grew with every passing second. No knife, no bat—nothing. My hands shook as I pushed myself up, steadying myself against the nightstand.
The cabin felt eerily quiet, save for the rain pounding against the roof and the occasional growl of thunder. I crept to the door, swallowing hard as I grabbed the handle. My palms were slick with sweat despite the cold.
With one shaky breath, I yanked the door open, bracing myself for—what? Someone lunging at me? Nothing happened. The hallway was dark and empty, but the air felt… wrong. Thick. Heavy.
I stepped out, my feet bare against the freezing wood floor, the chill biting into my skin. My heart thumped wildly as I crept toward the living room. Every sound seemed amplified—the creak of the floorboards under my weight, the wind rattling the windows.
And then, I saw it.
A figure.
It darted past the edge of the living room, heading toward the kitchen. My breath caught, and I stumbled back, gripping the wall for support. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out every thought.
It was too fast to make out. Too shadowy. Had I imagined it?
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog clouding my mind. No. I saw something. Someone.
I forced myself to move, inching toward the kitchen. The air felt colder here, like all the warmth had been sucked out of the room. I peeked into the kitchen, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Nothing.
The space was empty. The shadows danced along the walls, thrown by the dim light coming from the living room lamp. My knees felt weak, threatening to give out. Was it the fever? Was I hallucinating?
I gripped the counter, steadying myself. My hand brushed against something—a knife. Without thinking, I grabbed it, the cool metal grounding me for a second. I turned, gripping the knife tightly, ready to defend myself.
And then I saw it again.
A figure.
Standing in the living room, its back to me.
My breath hitched. It was tall, broad-shouldered, and perfectly still. I clutched the knife tighter, my knuckles whitening, and took a shaky step forward.
The figure wasn’t just a shadow—it was solid, real, and it made every hair on my body stand on end. Its shape was tall and broad, its shoulders square like it had been carved out of stone. It stood perfectly still, facing away from me, as though it was listening to something only it could hear.
The light from the corner lamp barely touched it, but I could see enough to know something was wrong. The figure’s arms hung unnaturally low, brushing against where its knees should be, and its head tilted slightly to the side, like it was studying the room—or maybe me.
I gripped the knife tighter, my breath shaky and loud in the quiet cabin. I couldn’t make out its face; it was shrouded in shadow, but its presence felt overwhelming, like it was sucking the air out of the room. There was something unnatural about it—something that didn’t belong.
I swallowed hard, taking a slow step closer, my feet dragging against the cold wood floor. Every instinct in my body screamed to run, but I couldn’t. I had to know what it was, had to be sure I wasn’t imagining it.
“Who’s there?” My voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.
It didn’t move. Not even a twitch. It just stood there, as if waiting for me to get closer.
I forced myself forward, one shaky step at a time, until I was nearly close enough to reach out and touch it. Then it vanished.
One second it was there, a solid, terrifying presence. The next, it was gone, like smoke dissolving into the air.
I spun around, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. My eyes darted across the room, searching for any sign of it.
And then I saw movement again—a quick, darting blur to my left, near the hallway leading to the kitchen. It was smaller than the first figure but just as unnerving. My stomach clenched as I stumbled toward the wall, gripping the knife so tightly my knuckles ached.
My breaths came fast and shallow. My pulse roared in my ears as I crept toward the hallway, the knife raised in front of me.
“Who’s there?” I asked again, louder this time, though my voice still trembled.
No answer. Just the sound of rain pounding on the roof and the distant rumble of thunder.
I inched closer to the hallway, every step feeling like it took a lifetime. The air in the cabin felt colder now, heavier, as though something unseen was watching me, waiting.
When I reached the edge of the hallway, I peeked around the corner, my heart racing. The kitchen was empty, the dim light from the window casting long shadows across the countertops.
Then, just as I was about to step into the space, I saw it. A tall, dark figure darted past the other side of the room, so fast I almost thought I’d imagined it.
“Stop!” I shouted, the sound tearing out of me before I could think.
I spun back around, gripping the knife with trembling hands, only to find the living room empty once more. But then I saw it—a figure, standing in the center of the room now, its back to me again.
It was taller this time, more imposing. I could see the faint rise and fall of its shoulders, as if it were breathing, and the way it tilted its head ever so slightly, as though it knew I was there.
I stumbled backward, nearly dropping the knife. My skin prickled with icy fear.
“Stay back,” I choked out, my voice barely steady.
But as I took another step, the figure shifted, not by walking or moving like a person, but almost like it flickered out of existence for a moment.
I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. When I opened my eyes, the figure was gone again.
The room fell silent, the only sound the rain hammering against the cabin walls. My chest heaved as I clutched the knife, spinning around to face every corner of the room.
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