Melanie turned away from me, looking out the window.
I didn't understand her at all. I remembered overhearing her and Blake that night, and if I had to guess what was going on, that meant that the reason they broke up was because of her.
“Why do you care?” I asked quietly.
She said nothing, but I saw the redness.
“I heard what he said to you. If you don’t love him, why do you want him back?” I asked.
She turned, stunned, then did something I wasn’t prepared for. She moved so fast I had no time to block as she slammed me against the wall, both hands tight around my neck.
I struggled to free myself but was trapped. I couldn’t catch my breath. Panic rose within me like a drowning swimmer trying to rise to the surface.
She leaned in, her lips hovering beside my ear.
“Never speak to me like you know me again.”
The air pressure in the room changed. For a moment, everything was still, heavy and wrong. It was only a moment, then, the air itself exploded. I watched in a vacuum of silence as the glass of my mirror and windows shattered. It sprayed pieces of glass everywhere, and Melanie’s hand released me.
She never looked away from me, glaring as I slid down the wall, gasping for air.
Without another word, she vanished.
I sat there, trying to catch my breath, and massaged my neck.
As I waited for my body to work again, I stared ahead of me, seeing the small scroll on my table again. It was right next to the vial Caelan gave me.
Irritated, I got up and stepped over the glass and snatched it from the table.
I unfolded it. There were only three words.
I let go of the slip of parchment, letting it flutter to the floor. Seeing Caelan’s vial, my mind focused on my heartbeat, my breathing, the numbness in my fingers as the cold wind made my candles flicker.
I closed my fingers around the small vial. What did Malakai see when he took it; his life, his past, his justification for his despicable behavior? The chaos in my mind was costing me—Icouldn’t let this go on. Not when hidden enemies were leaving threats in my room. I popped the cork.
I needed this to stop.
Tipping the vial back, I drank.
Shadows.
Twisting, strangling, draining, hurting.
I tore my eyelids open.
Bleary dim light made it hard to see.
I was home, in the cabin, and mom was there, too.
“Mom?” I whispered.
I saw her hand, and her long, slender fingers splayed out across the floor. I sat up, crawling over to her.
“Mom,” I said, gently shaking her.
She didn’t move.
Her eyes were open, staring up into the darkness.
