Page 27 of Haunted Prey

“They got most of us on a sleeping aid too,” Maria said as I hung out with her and the others again in the sunroom. “Usually, it does wonders. But sometimes I get the worst night terrors.”

The others said they had similar dreams. The thought made my own stomach twist.

This had to be all wrong. But I tried to tell myself it was all in my head. That I was growing paranoid. The others looked fine and didn't seem worried at all. Every so often, when I lingered around the halls, I’d see them being wheeled away to the medical ward in the back. They talked to each other with smiles as if it was any other day.

The incident with Jonsei had just been one weird but rare moment. Nothing like that happened again after that night. And every medication had side effects. Kennedy and his team had to be working it out.

I tried to believe all this, to ignore the tiny feeling of dread creeping its way inside. To not feel like the walls were slowly closing in around me, trapping me.

Until one night when I stood staring at the paintings in the art gallery.

It was late, and I had yet to take my sleeping pill. I’d crept out of my room and, for the first time, had gotten by the securitydesk without getting noticed. They didn’t usually stop me, only greeted me and moved on. But always after that, I felt watched.

I snuck down the stairs and it was empty. I started to wander but found myself in the gallery, studying a painting of a young girl in a beautiful white dress being led to kneel in front of an execution block. I heard the sounds of footsteps first and looked over to see several nurses and a doctor wheeling Adrien away toward the medical ward. They hadn’t noticed me. When they turned down the hall, some wild instinct made me follow.

When they stopped halfway down, I kept hidden in a doorway and peeked around.

The staff talked in whispers around Adrien who sat limply in her seat, her hands and feet strapped to the chair. Her head lolled to one side and her eyes rolled back.

They started walking again and went through a set of doors leading to the back. I stepped out of the doorway and stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at the doors.

When I asked Adrien about it the next day, she looked at me like she didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about.

“I just wasn’t feeling well,” she said.

“You don’t remember them carting you off?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

I didn’t consider them dumb. Really. But I couldn’t fathom how they could be so blind, so uncaring. Then it dawned on me that they were just happy to be somewhere they thought was safe. They trusted this place to take care of them.

The next night, at twilight, I took a stroll through the woods, hoping that whatever eyes were watching me stayed indoors. I ventured farther than I ever had before and eventually came upon one of the large stone walls that encircled the property.

I followed the wall until it gave way to iron, where a small gravel path stretched before me. The iron gate stood at the back of the property, chained and locked. The gravel path ran fromthe gate up to the building, while beyond the gate, a paved road disappeared into the distance.

I curled my fingers around the iron like an inmate might do between the bars of their prison. I stood looking out, wondering where the road might lead and if I could climb over and start walking.

Before I could decide whether to turn back or look for a way over, a black Mustang with a red line down its side came flying down the road. It flew past me and then screeched to a halt.

It sat for a second, then drove backward and jerked to a stop before me.

The windows were so dark I couldn’t see inside. The car stayed there for a long moment and I started to feel unease.

Because I was being watched again.

Nowhere was safe.

I backed away and whirled around, practically running back to Severfalls.

That same night, I had an awful night terror. I took the sleeping pill and laid down, curling into myself and facing away from the door so I couldn’t see Emery’s phantom watching me. In a matter of minutes, I fell into what was at first my usual dreamless sleep.

Sometime during the night, I heard whispers. The sound of my door opening reached me, followed by the sensation of hands on my body, but I couldn’t wake. Something jabbed into my stomach, and pressure weighed heavy on my arm. Then, I felt my pants being pulled down and something cold pushed inside me. I wanted to wake, to scream, to flail, but I couldn’t.

Then it all faded away, and darkness took over again. Another dream swelled in my mind, relentless, like a tumor. I was strapped to a wheelchair, unable to move or speak, as nurses wheeled me out of my room.

They took me downstairs, down a dim hallway, and into the medical ward. The door opened into pitch-black darkness, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew something terrible was waiting there. The faint screams of children echoed, mingling with the rattling of cages. They pushed me forward and the darkness consumed me.

When I woke, the sun was still not up and my bed was soaked with sweat. When I flung the sheets off, I was still in my pajamas. I didn’t feel pain or discomfort, and yet I still felt wrong, violated.

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