“Fucking son of a goddamn monkey’s uncle,” I hiss through clenched teeth, instinctively yanking my hand back. Blood wells instantly, red and flowing way too quickly. My stomach roils at the sight.
Strong hands close around my wrist, dragging my arm away from the sink and toward him.
“Damnit, Ava. I told you to wait,” he growls.
His fingers sear my clammy skin. Too hot compared to the instant cold flash that draws bile to the back of my throat at the sight before me.
His grip’s controlled, but there’s an undercurrent of something else there, too. Something wild burns between us. And I think he’s wrestling with it as hard as I am.
I try to pull back, just enough to catch my breath, but he’s already walking me backward, guiding me back to the sink like I’m a child who’s scraped her knee.
“You need to rinse it,” he says. “Don’t tense up, it’ll just bleed more.”
“Little late for that,” I bite back, teeth clenching as the cold water stings just as bad as the initial cut.
The cabin’s floorboards creak from the moaning wind. It’s as if the old dwelling shares my pain. The temperature inside somehow drops. Like every heat molecule has crystallized into ice. I feel it deep in my bones.
My cut pulses, heartbeat pounding in time with the storm, and my nerves from his capable hands on my body. I thought the pain had taken over my attention, but now I’m not so sure. Being alone might have been a better option than this crazed desire I can’t staunch.
The lights flicker once… twice, and I hold my breath. Expecting to be plunged back into the dark ages, but they settle instead.
Scott doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on around us. He’s too focused, staring down at my hand like he can will the blood to stop with just his eyes. I catch the way his jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching with the effort. His otherhand ghosts near my elbow like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. Afraid I’ll leave the warmth of his touch.
I almost do, but my core tightens. I like the way his sure grip holds tight.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” he says, releasing me reluctantly. “Don’t move from over the sink. The last thing we need is blood tracked across the cabin.”
I lean against the counter, my hand elevated under the cold stream. It’s numb now, the water straight from the snow-covered water tank outside. The cut still weeps, but with the water cascading over it, they dance together like an opaque watercolor. It’s kind of beautiful.
Something crashes to the floor. His rummaging through the cabinets must not be going well. The first-aid kit is probably eluding his efforts, as the slam of another cabinet comes from the other room. His heavy footsteps crash from one side of the small bathroom to the other. I can picture his hulking frame taking up most of the space, whirling around in every direction trying to find the elusive item, and it brings a smile to my face, until…
Everything stops. There’s no sound, like the world’s become a silent movie, but I don’t have the comfort of the film whirring through the projector.
The wind that’s been a constant companion all evening suddenly doesn’t whine or whistle through the cracks of the cabin’s frame. The hum of electricity has been silenced. The tick of the clock is nowhere to be heard.
Is this a sign of a stroke?
I glance toward the window, past the thin veil of threadbare fabric. Beyond it, nothing but blackness, a mouth of ink gaping wide, hungry enough to swallow the dim reflections off the snow.
A low creak filters through behind me, making my stomach bottom out. I turn fast, oblivious to the blood running down my wrist. There’s nothing there—just an empty hallway.
It feels wrong, a mirage distorting reality, as if something was there a mere second ago. Yet, now it’s just an empty, narrow hallway.
“Ava?”
Scott’s voice startles me from my illusions. I jump, not sure how he got here without my notice. Clutching my hand to staunch the blood, it’s too late—small splotches of crimson paint the wooden floorboards.
He steps closer, a small white box in his hand, brow furrowed.
“You okay?”
“I…” I nod, but it doesn’t feel convincing. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—it got really quiet all of a sudden.”
He pauses, turning toward the windows like the answer to my asinine assessment is across the room.
But it’s not the same as before. The forest surrounding us groans as it has all night. The fridge hums as it cools the food inside. A distorted, static-filled Christmas carol struggles to play softly through the radio.
His gaze snaps back to mine. “Did the generator cut out?”
