Page 29 of Amnesty

“That’s what I thought when I saw it a few minutes ago.” I agreed.

“It looks like a light, maybe a flashlight… No.” She frowned, but never tore her eyes off the illumination. “Like a lantern, you know, the kind from back in the day.”

“Back in the day?” I teased.

She shrugged. “Do people still use those things?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, yeah. Back in the day.” Her voice was exasperated but teasing.

“It does have that kind of glow,” I murmured, realizing she was right.

Her hand reached for mine, our fingers entwining. We didn’t look at each other, though. Our focus was on that light.

“I thought the island was empty,” Am whispered. “The widow is still in the hospital.”

I made a sound of agreement.

“Didn’t you say she lived out there alone?” she questioned.

I nodded. “Yeah, ever since her husband died years and years ago.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never seen anyone with her. No one has.”

Just as I spoke, the light went out, almost like a flame on a candle met with too much wind.

“It’s gone,” Amnesia whispered, still staring, waiting for it to reappear.

“C’mon, baby. It’s cold. Time to go in.”

She allowed me to lead her away, but the entire way to the house, she kept glancing back.

Sadie.A nearly silent voice echoed through the stillness of the midnight hour.

Goose bumps broke out over my skin, spider-crawling over my bare arms and legs, leaving behind an itchy, creepy feeling in their wake. The voice was low, sort of scratchy. Ominous.

Wake up, Sadie. Get ready.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Despite the goose bumps and the cold feel to my skin, a fine sheen of sweat broke out over my entire body.

He’s coming for you, Sadie.

My stomach turned violently as if I were in a boat that made a sudden dip over a giant wave.

He’s tired of waiting for what’s his.

I gasped so deep my body flew up off the mattress. Pressing a hand to my frantically beating heart, I told myself everything was okay. It was just a dream. An eerie dream filled with nothing but a voice, a voice nightmares were made of.

I wasn’t sure what was worse—the voice or the warning it gave.

The urge to get up and dust away the sudden icky feeling clinging to my body was strong. After a quick glance at Eddie, I slipped from beneath the covers and padded over to the window.

I was completely naked, but I didn’t bother to cover up. It was just me, and the cool night air was relief against my flushed skin.

The windows were covered with curtains, and even though I was scared to pull back the fabric (even just a little) because of what might be there looking back, I reached for it anyway.

---