A dull throb hits behind my eyes, the force of it blinding me. I press a palm to my forehead as a sudden spike of heat races down my neck. It tingles along my shoulders and stops at the mark on my left side. The heat that is always there, always burning beneath my skin, flares hotter—painfully so.
I cover it with my hand, then pull away quickly. The heat seems to pulse in my veins, and a tickle forms at the base of my skull.
“Just a little more.”
I jerk around, heart slamming at the sudden voice. It wasn’t me.
The room is empty, but the sound echoes in my head like a cannon.
Just a little more.
A little more.
A little…
I stare at the door, which is just as I left it. There is nothing,no one.Just the hum of the ventilation fan, the soft drip of water from the rinse tray.
My mouth goes dry, and I slam my eyes shut. It’s just the stress. That’s all. It has to be the stress.
But the memory of my mom pacing the hallway, talking to shadows and things that weren’t there, is too vivid, too real. The way she’d stare off, her gentle rock. Her whispers.
They’re talking again, Toby. The voices are whispering.
She’d say that right before she’d break things.
I press my lips together, refusing to mutter a single sound.
It’s just in my head. It’s just in my head…
It brings me no comfort. I don’t want it to be in my head any more than I want Rip to be standing in this room.
“There. Got it.”
I nearly scream when I hear it again. Of course it’s his voice. Rip. Because my brain’s an asshole!
I shut off the fan, just to be sure it’s not playing tricks on me—but there’s nothing. Just an echo of a sound that seems to move through the room.
Fear lances up my spine, and I shake my head. “No, no, no.”This isn’t real.
My hands tremble as I clean up, and I splash cold water on my face. When I glance in the small mirror above the sink, the red light warps my reflection. My eyes look darker, my skin almost translucent. For a second, I swear the shadow behind me moves.
I whirl around, but the space is empty.
The air feels heavier. Every breath tastes like metal.
I need to get out. Now.
Pushing through the rotating door, I stumble through the studio into the hallway. The sudden dim gray of the house hits me like a wave. My knees buckle, and I grip the wall, waiting for the spinning to stop.
“Tobias?” Jasmine’s voice reaches me from somewhere nearby. A second later, her warm hand touches my arm. The contact snaps me back to reality.
I look up at her, heart pounding.
Worry is all over her face. Her hair is wet and smells of lavender, like she’d just taken a shower. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” I cut in, the words coming out too fast. Too sharp, too defensive.
Jasmine flinches, stunned by my tone.
