Besides, this time, although it’s fading, there’s light coming from the window, and the door is wide open, so I make for the grey hole that I know is the exit.
Taking a deep breath, I pace forwards and clear the doorway, the bedroom looming before me.This room is darker, and I can just make out the shape of the bed, the long curtains, and the dim light from the balcony doors.
Aware that Fenrir is waiting, I take a step, and the cold hits me.
It’s like a slap to my face, my cheeks raw.
What the hell?
Focusing on the doorway to the landing, I try to move, but the room slides, like the whole house has been tilted on its side.
I brace myself, hands out in front of me.
Slowing my breathing, I try to process this rationally.Is this a fucking earthquake?That can be the only reason why the room suddenly feels like it’s slipping beneath me.
My heart races in my chest and pounds in my ears, my blood rushing around my body like it’s being chased by a mountain lion.And just when I think life is playing cruel fucking games with me, I hear a noise like the swishing of a skirt, the rustling of movement.
But I’m the only person in this house.
The knives on the table flash before my eyes, the kitchen drawers opened by nothing.Fenrir poised, gun aimed at the emptiness behind me before he fired into the wall.The bed lying two feet below as I floated above, nothing holding me there.
Stop it.
Must move.Must get out of here.
Steadying my footing, I take a step, but the room laughs at me as it tilts me further towards the bed.
Holding both my hands out, I try to grab onto something.As I do, an eerie feeling creeps up the back of my neck, cold and uninvited.
It’s just your imagination.Ignore it.Find something to hold on to.
The bed.My fingers trail over the smooth wood of the headboard, reading it like it’s Braille, telling me a haunting story where a girl gets trapped in a house of tricks and shadows.
Stop it.
It’s just an old house.The lights have tripped before.This isn’t the first time I’ve been stuck in the dark.
But I’m panicking.It’s no wonder after recent events.My heart rate is already elevated.
I’m stressed and hyper-aware of what’s going on.But as I tell myself this, the cold creeps over my neck, and I swear my hair moves.
I slap the back of my head, pulling my hand down my hair and over my neck.I continue to shuffle forwards, using the bed as a guideline.
Not far until I reach the doorway, which is six, maybe seven paces away.
Just get to the end of the bed, then run.
Five paces, four.
I’m almost there.
As I edge forwards, my gaze fixes on the open doorway to the landing.The banister is just visible, running from the stairs along the hall.I brace to run, drawing in a deep breath?—
“Where are you going?”
The voice slices through the air, freezing my heart, my body, my soul.
* * *
