It’s not just any screaming, though; this is blood-curdling, someone lost an arm, screaming. As the gut-wrenching noise closes in, I realize that in between the screams, Jayce is hollering words that drain the color from my face. “It came from the fire. Something was in the flames.”
Chapter Five
Cold Reality
My mom practically falls into the room, her face as white as the sheets beneath me. Her hands shake as she approaches my bed, her mouth open and soundless.
“Mom, what happened?” I ask as she sits awkwardly beside me, the chair rocking to the side, nearly tipping over.
“I…I was talking to Jayce in the lobby.” Her hand leaves her lap and gestures toward the open doorway. “And something…I mean, somehow, the fireplace ignited on its own…and…” Her voice trails off.
I reach for her, taking her trembling hand and squeezing it. “What do you mean it ignited on its own?”
She glances at me, her eyes widening. “I mean, one minute it was off and cold as this room, and the next…” She removes her hand from under mine and throws both hands in the air. “…poof, it fires up and shoots out flames that burn your Jayce’s arm.”
“He’s not my Jayce.”
The wrinkle in her forehead deepens as she frowns. “What do you mean he’s not your Jayce? How about asking me if he’s okay? How bad is it? Can I see him?” She shakes her head.
“We broke up. I don’t want to see him.” I roll over, wincing as the sheet tightens around my injured leg. My mind wandersto the fire that burned Jayce. Was it him? Is the man-creature sending a warning?
I frown as my mom appears in front of me, blocking my view of the window and the outside world. “You two broke up?”
“Yes,” I say without further explanation.
She runs her fingers through my hair and cups my head in her palm. “Oh, honey, what happened? I thought you two were happy.”
Fuck it. If he didn’t tell her, I’m going to. Maybe then he’ll stay away.
“Jayce was having sex with Maureen for almost a year. I found out at the bonfire. And by found out, I mean I saw them with my own eyes.”
Her hand stops moving on my head, and the air from her nostrils shifts the hair on my head like a huff from a bull. “That son of a bitch.” She turns her back on me and covers her mouth with her hand as she murmurs, “I’m glad he got burned.”
“Mom!”
She whips around to face me. “Lord, forgive me, but he hurt my sweet girl, so he deserves everything that comes after. It’s probably the devil himself who lit that fire in the lobby and burnt him for his sins.”
My windpipe narrows, and the air turns heavy and thick. Too thick to breathe. It’s him. Even my own mother believes it’s possible the man-creature, or should I say, devil came from the flames to punish Jayce.
The devil. That must be what the creature is. My chest aches, and my heart pounds in my chest. I made a deal with the devil. What the fuck have I done?
Pain pierces through my temples. I press my fingers into my head, trying to stop the building pressure.
“Tessa, what’s the matter?”
The screaming starts quietly and grows rapidly, becoming unbearable. I cover my ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t help.
The screaming is coming from me.
I can’t stop it. Everything that’s happening is too much. My body shakes violently as my mom yells for help in the background. I can’t open my eyes; I’m stuck in my own nightmare. I’ve suffered from anxiety attacks for years, but this feels different. This feels chaotic.
Heat spreads through my body, and I open my eyes as multiple people flood into my room. They all reach for me at once, and I slap at their hands. My feet fly from beneath the covers, and I quickly throw my legs over the opposite side of the bed. I stand, but I fall in slow motion, my leg giving out. Blood sprays out of my hand, dotting the floor with crimson as my IV rips out of my vein.
My mom grabs me by the arms, and we slide to the floor, where she holds me tight and says, “What can I do, Tessa bear?” She sobs, her lips pecking my head. “Tell me how I can help you.”
I bawl uncontrollably, gripping her arm with shaking hands as I roll on my side and take on the fetal position. A nurse kneels beside us, presses a piece of gauze on my bloody hand, and says, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down.” She turns to the other nurses in the room. “Everyone out. This isn’t a circus.” A cap pops off the end of a syringe and rolls to the floor by my feet. A cold square of alcohol touches the side of my outer thigh. “Usually we do this intravenously, but since you pulled out the IV, I’m doing it in your muscle.” The needle penetrates my skin, and the medication stings as it filters into my leg muscle and surrounding tissue. “Look at me,” the nurse says calmly. “I need you to breathe with me. In and out, like this. Nice and slow.”
My heart is bordering on explosion. I follow her lead and take a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
