Page 63 of Tempest

A sound draws my head up.

Curious, I lean forward to see past the open doorway and into the hall that eventually turns into the front foyer. The overhead lights are on motion detectors during the night, but the side windows give me enough streetlight to see the bare floors and slashes of moonlight through the dark interior.

Shadows have no eyes, yet I feel like they’re looking at me in the high corners of the ceiling.

I debate staying close to the fire where it’s light and warm versus sprinting up to my room where I have a lock.

Another sound whips my head to the right. Like shuffling footsteps.

My heart skitters in its cage.

On my left, a dragging, clanking noise, like heavy chains being pulled across the floor.

“Nope.” I clamp my lips shut and leap from the chair. No ghosts of TFU’s past are visiting me tonight.

Whether it’s my imagination getting the best of me or one of my dorm-mates returning to screw with my head doesn’t matter—I’m out of here before my fear takes over, and I can’t tell real from the past anymore.

Don’t let it get that far.

After one deep breath, I sprint for the hall, aiming for the staircase that’ll take me up high, into the shadows that will either protect me or swallow me whole.

My exhales are skattered, my eyes wide and darting. Despite all this, I’m not prepared for strong arms to swoop around my middle and drag me into the dark.

“N—” I start to scream. A gloved hand clamps down on my mouth.

So I bite.

Kick.

Do everything I did when I was ten years old, even though it was useless, even though I was so small.

No, no, no!

“Shut her up!” growls a voice close by. Deep. Resonant. Terrifying.

“I’m trying—she’s squirming—fuck, she’s like a squirrel!”

I don’t stop screaming. My throat is raw with the effort, my jaw aching while I fight against the hand that holds my mouth. I wiggle and jab—using all the self-defense skills my mother demanded I get the instant I “returned to good health.”

None of it works.

“Jesus,” a gruff, impatient voice growls. “Let me do it.”

A man, dressed all in black, steps in front of me, his face obscured by a ski mask.

My past coming back to haunt me.

The tremors start at the base of my spine once I catch sight of him. Travel up my back, down my limbs, and paralyze my mind as the fear takes control. NONONONOTAGAIN.

He cocks his head. “We’re back, little girl.”

I yowl, high and animalistic, tears bursting from my eyes.

There’s a prick in my neck and a swirl of nausea in my belly before everything goes black.

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