“Is there another?”
“Is he here?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“I do.”
“He’s an asshole.”
The man chuckles and the sound echoes down the stone hall. “Yes. Yes he is. He wasn’t always like that though.”
I frown and step into a cast of light. “When was he not?”
“Oh… a long time ago. Let’s see… how long have I been here? I think two years now or maybe three and—”
“Wait.” I swallow, my heart kicking up in my chest. “Did you say you’ve been here for years?”
“Yes. Somewhere around that, I think.”
Two or three years?
My breathing quickens.
I stumble back and slam into the wall.
Oh god.
Years.
Aunt Em. Uncle Henry. I can’t… I have to get out of here.
The panic crawls up my throat. I’m flushed in an instant, my vision going white on the edges.
No home for three years.
My legs cramp up. I can’t breathe. I slump into the wall and slide down it, tears filling my eyes.
I have to run. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“Kansas,” the man calls. “Are you okay?”
I hear wind. It whistles through the cracks in the stone.
I slam my hands over my eyes trying to focus, to breathe, to do anything other than give in to the anxiety.
Not now. Not here. I thought I was over panic attacks.
The wind is joined by the sound of dripping water plinking against the stone.
I can’t control it.
I can’t stop.
I squeeze my eyes shut and descend into panic.
FORTY
Tinman
