A knife?
No.
A nail.
I caught a glimpse of it in the corner of my eye: a jagged piece of metal sticking out from a floorboard. It sliced a path from collarbone to ear as the man dragged me.
Pain detonated across my skin.
A scream ripped from my throat. It was high-pitched and frantic, unrecognizable as mine. Warm blood poured down my neck, slick and fast, soaking into my collar.
“Help me!” I screeched, but the words were muffled as both hands flew to my bleeding throat. The warmth. The wetness. The horror made it hard to think. Hard to breathe.
Was I going to bleed out like some animal on a slaughter floor?
“Somebody, please help!”
A gunshot cracked through the room like a whip. The man toppled forward, his dead weight landing on top of me. His blood spilled across mine, hot and thick.
I kicked and screamed beneath him until a woman dropped to her knees beside me and tried to shove the man’s body off mine.
Cynthia!
But younger. So much younger. Her hair was golden blonde, cascading over her shoulders. Her face was delicate, striking.
“Get him off!” I screamed.
The little boy joined us, straining with everything he had. He was pushing hard, his face twisted with effort. Together, they got the man off—halfway.
But then he moved again and grabbed Cynthia.
“Run!” she screamed as the man’s hand clamped around her hair. He climbed to his feet, his rage boiling over as he slammed his fist into her face over and over.
“Ruuuuuun!” she screamed again as if this might be the last word she ever spoke.
I scrambled upright, blood still pouring down my neck in hot pulses. My head whipped around to find the boy. He was behind me, his eyes wide, following close as we ran into the hallway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man smash Cynthia’s head into the wall.
I wanted to help her. God, I wanted to. But I couldn’t.
The boy had to be saved from the monster.
We had to run.
We’d barely made it outside into the violent storm when my foot caught on something and I dropped to my knees. The wind shrieked around me, wild and ruthless. It slammed into my body and tossed me from side to side as if I were a doll. Rain pelted down in heavy sheets, soaking my clothes in seconds.
Then, in a blink, it was gone.
The storm, the boy, the blood—all gone.
I was back in the basement, drenched in darkness.
Everything spun.
My throat was still being crushed.
I clawed at the hands around my neck, my nails digging deep, desperate for release.
