I can’t move. My limbs don’t feel like they’re my own. Something is lying heavily on my chest, unforgivingly, cementing me to the ground.
Then, the sound of an engine buzzing, the familiar icy, strong winds, and the cold air biting my skin are palpable. I want to scream, but my tongue and lips stay still. A metallic, iron tang fills my throat.
Is this blood?
My chest rises and falls faster.
Where am I? What’s going on? Am I dead? Is this all a nightmare? Am I sleeping? Why does my whole body hurt?
Suddenly, I regain my senses. All of my limbs come alive. I groan, blinking slowly and hard. As soon as I’m able to keep them open, it’s a blurry sky and white orbs that glimmer all around me.
I’m twisted in an uncomfortable position, staring up at the dark sky, but there are no stars or moon in sight—ribbons of thick smoke swirl in front of me. Tears slide out of the corner of my eyes. Shaking, trembling, my finger tips are burning.
Frostbite? How long have I been lying here in the snow?
I turn to my left and see a car that’s been totaled, wrapped around a tree, and it looks unrecognizable—crumpled, broken, torn pieces of machinery litter the ground, sinking into the growing snow.
I've been in an accident.
Fear claws at me. I try to move, but I still can’t feel my legs. Are they moving? The world spins as exhaustion knocks on my door, tempting me to fall back into sleeping shadows. My vision blurs trees and the raining snow carousels, until I’m seeing everything in twelve different versions. In my periphery, there’s a truck.
The same all-black truck that struck me.
I’ve got to get out of here now.
“N-no.” My tongue is numb as I struggle to get the one syllable out.
Darkness and trepidation anchor me further, and I close my eyes against my will. But before I succumb to my injuries, I see a masked man dressed in all black. I can’t get any details. He bends his knees, resting his forearms on his legs as he hovers over my face.
My chest tightens as he stares at me. His eyes are as dark as night—obsidian pools void of emotion. I’m as cold as ice when he tucks his gloved fingers underneath his mask and is about to pull it off, but stops.
I tremble all over as the realization dawns on me. This is the same person who wants me dead. I know he’s the one responsible for all the threats.
He towers over me, and just when I try to tell him to get the hell away from me, my heart hammers until my head feels light as a feather, and shadows swallow me.
CHAPTER 6
CORALINE
“Wake up.”
A voice.
It’s a woman’s voice. She sounds older; her raspy voice is laced with patience.
Flashes of bloodied snow, my car in pieces, me getting flung out of a moving car and buried in snow come back like a slap in the face. Blood pulses in my ears, tremors infiltrating my muscles as the memories play out. Groaning, I expand my arms like wings, fast and ready to fight.
“You’re awake,” she says, relief lifting her voice. “You’re okay.”
Everything is warm.
I’m in a bed. Soft blankets, warmth, a fire crackling in the distance. It’s not unbearably freezing. It smells good. Like cinnamon and butter, with a hint of nature. As though the smell of tree bark is thick and wrapped around cedar. Opening my eyes, my gaze snaps to a large rectangular window centered on a dark, wooden wall. The snow is still falling harshly. The blizzard is very much alive and hasn’t died out a bit. Despite thehorrific last moments of my life, the view is beautiful from the bed. It’s even better than the hotel room Maya booked for me.
My head feels like it’s been beaten.
.“Don’t move. Take it slow,” she tells me.
I track the voice just as I shudder. Moving my head to the right, my cheek softly brushes against a white pillow. It’s an older woman, likely in her seventies, who sits in a rocking chair in the corner of a bedroom. Her right hand is balled over a cane as she rocks, nonchalantly. “How are you feeling?” she rasps out.
