41
I couldn’t breathe. My body refused to obey me as I stared at the corner, waiting for something, anything to move. The knife felt heavier in my hand with each passing second, as though the weight of my own fear was sinking into my bones.
The air in the cabin seemed thick, choking me, pressing me down. I could still hear it—a laugh, faint but unmistakable, echoing in the hollow space. My mind screamed at me to run, to escape whatever nightmare I was trapped in. But I couldn’t move.
Then I did the only thing that made sense in that moment: I bolted.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d run this fast. My feet slapped against the cold wood floors as I pushed open the front door and stumbled into the downpour. The rain hit me like a thousand needles, soaking through Dominic’s shirt in seconds, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting away from whatever it was that had been haunting me.
I ran straight into the thick of the woods, my feet slipping in the mud, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I could barely hear the crashing of the storm. I couldn’t tell if the world around me was real anymore—the trees swayed unnaturally, the shadows shifting like they had lives of their own. My breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to shake the image of that thing out of my mind. But it stayed there, lurking in the back of my thoughts, as if it was following me.
Mud clung to my feet, the sharp slap of the wet earth beneath me barely registering as I pushed through the underbrush, my mind focused only on the blur of trees ahead. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, drowning out everything else.
And then, through the blur of rain, I saw it.
Dominic’s car. It was pulling into the woods, headlights cutting through the downpour. My body surged forward, propelled by something that felt like desperation, or maybe just a blind need to reach him.
The car screeched to a halt as it slid into the clearing, and Dominic was out of the driver’s side before I could reach him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his jacket drenched, his expression hard with something I couldn’t place. But it wasn’t fear. Not yet.
His eyes met mine, his breath visible in the cold night air. “Eleanor,” he said, his voice cutting through the storm. But he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching me, like he couldn’t quite believe I was there, drenched and shaking, stumbling toward him.
I couldn’t help it. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline. My fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, I felt like I could breathe again.
“What’s happening?” he asked, his voice tight. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I saw something,” I gasped, my voice frantic. “In the house. There’s—something there. Someone. I don’t know. It’s not real, but it is. It’s…”
Dominic didn’t waste a second. He pulled me away from him gently, his hands firm but caring as he scanned my face. His eyes were full of concern, but there was something else, something like recognition in them too.
“Listen to me, Eleanor. You’re sick. The fever... it’s making everything worse. You’re not seeing things, okay? You’re just... you're reacting. It's not real.”
But I couldn’t be sure. The laughter, the shadows, the figures that had darted by in the corners of my vision—I knew what I saw. It wasn’t just a fever dream.
Dominic turned then, speaking to the woman behind him—the nurse. She was black, tall, with a calm presence that seemed to make everything feel more real, even though her face was hard to read. She moved toward us, her movements deliberate, almost mechanical, as if she had already accepted her fate.
She had been with him. She had been kidnapped. And now she was here, standing silently in the rain, unaffected by the madness that had swept over me.
The nurse didn’t look at me as she approached, her eyes locked on Dominic as he took a step toward her.
“We need to get her inside,” she said, her voice flat, almost too controlled, as if she had already separated herself from whatever had happened to her. She wasn’t here to save me—she was just doing her job.
I wanted to argue. I wanted to shout at her that she didn’t understand—that I was fine, that I just needed to figure out what was going on. But I didn’t have the energy. Instead, Dominic carefully wrapped an arm around me and guided me back to the cabin, the nurse walking in silence behind us.
Once inside, the warmth of the cabin hit me like a tidal wave, and I staggered forward, the heat and the damp clothes making my skin burn. Dominic helped me to the bed, pushing me down with gentle insistence. His hands were warm against my skin, but his eyes never left me, like he was waiting for me to fall apart.
The nurse moved quickly, taking my temperature, checking my pulse, her face impassive as she worked.
“You’re having a reaction to the fever,” she said, her voice detached. “It’s making your hallucinations worse. You need to rest, but...”
I could barely process her words. Hallucinations. Was that what this was? But it felt so real—too real.
Dominic hovered over me, the lines of concern deepening across his face. “We’ll get through this, Eleanor,” he whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “Just breathe.”
But I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the cabin felt too close. The air too thick. And the shadow at the edge of the room—it was still there. I saw it in the corner of my vision, dark and formless, just like the figures I had seen earlier.
My body stiffened. I could feel it.
“It’s still here,” I whispered.
Dominic looked toward the door, but the nurse didn’t flinch, her gaze hard as she checked my pulse again. “It’s the fever,” she repeated, like she didn’t believe me.
But I wasn’t sure anymore. The laugh echoed in my ears once more, low and guttural. The shadow shifted.
I reached out for the knife, my hand trembling as I pulled it from under the blanket.
“No,” Dominic said sharply, grabbing my wrist. “Stop.”
But I couldn’t stop. I was losing it.
And just as I was about to speak, there was a knock at the door. A slow, deliberate sound.
My heart stopped.
Dominic’s eyes shot to the door, the tension in his jaw visible. “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice hard and controlled, but I could hear the crack of fear behind it. “I’ll check.”
The knock came again, louder this time.
The room went silent. My mind raced.
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