Page 12 of The Nightmare's Kiss

“Obviously, I can’t tell you much about what I’m doing there,” I say, desperate to fill the quiet, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I can. “But it’s interesting work, and I’m really excited about it.” I stop there, hoping it’s enough to get them on board with the idea.

My dad clears his throat and exchanges a look with my mom. “It’s just…unexpected, that’s all,” he says. “But if you’re happy, we’re happy. Right, Enora?”

My mom’s smile finally gets unstuck, and she nods a little too enthusiastically. “Of course. And honestly, anything that keeps you with us in Ash Valley is fantastic news!” She hesitates, fingers toying with her napkin. “And I’m sure it’s not as bad as everyone says it is. But maybe we should…nottell the neighbors, for a little while. I’m sure you don’t need rumors flying.” Before I can even respond, her eyes widen with a new realization. “Oh, and you’ll be working with Ethan! How lovely.”

I grimace. “Yeah,” I say, strained, and get to my feet. “Anyone want another glass of wine to celebrate?”

A couple hours later and two more glasses of wine deep, I finally retreat to my bedroom. The wine renders my thoughts pleasantly hazy, and the conversation with my parents went better than I expected. But the minute I’m alone, looking at my wine-stained shirt in the mirror and reliving that moment of panic earlier, unease shivers through me again. Dinner was a good distraction, but now I have to avoid looking too hard at dark corners, afraid my nerves will make visions of the Nightmare materialize again. And when I climb into bed and shut my eyes, that dark silhouette is waiting in my thoughts.

My dreams provide no escape. They are haunted by the same figure. In these dreams, instead of sitting in the observation room and looking in, I am inside, looking out at a dark shape on the other side. I bang my fists on the window and scream for my release, but that shadowy form only writes down their observations. In the way of dreams, I know what they’re writing:12:00:The subject screams. 12:01: The subject screams. 12:02: The subject screams.

I wake, drenched in sweat, to the blaring of my alarm. I slap it off and drag a hand across my face with a groan. It feels as though I haven’t slept a wink—but no matter. It’s my second day of work, and way too early to screw it up by being late. So I rush through a quick shower, get myself ready for the day, and head to the Facility.

My pulse is already rising as I cross through security and think about sitting in that room again. Every clack of my heels on the tile accelerates the drumbeat of my heart. When I step into my room, I nearly shriek as I realize someone is sitting in my chair.

“Oh, God,” I say, laughing nervously. “You scared me!”

At least this is slightly more justified than getting startled by my own father. The sight of a sleazy ex-boyfriend sitting in their work chair would be enough to freak anyone out, right? Ethan smiles at me, holding a familiar file in his hand. “Good morning to you, too, Mara.” He gestures to the file. “Your notes…”

I think of my breach of protocol yesterday, on myfirstday, and how ridiculous I’ll sound trying to explain why I felt the need to cower out in the hallway. My stomach sinks. The first day was probably a test of my ability to stave off fear, and I failed. “Yes?” I ask, barely a whisper.

He sets the file down. “They’re good. Thorough. Exactly what we like to see. Keep it up.”

I’m not sure if I feel relieved or annoyed. At least I’ve not been doing anything wrong…but at the same time, who is he to come in and tell me that? Come to think of it, I don’t know what position he holds here. With Ethan, it’s hard to tell if he has some kind of authority, or if he’s just being his usual smug self. Either way, he’s looking at me like he expects a response, so after a moment, I manage a terse, “Thanks.”

“So…following in my footsteps, huh?” He smiles as he says it, but it feels like an accusation. My stomach twists as I remember all the things he said about me after our breakup, that I was clingy, delusional, obsessed with him. My words stick in my throat, but after a pause, he continues, “I was surprised to hear you took the job. It can be pretty stressful, you know? Like I warned you. And you’ve always been so…sensitive.”

Annoyance flares in me. He’swellaware that word was the beginning of a hundred arguments between us back when we dated. He threw it at me every time I got upset—right until he swapped tocrazy. I swallow back my knee-jerk reaction and force a smile. “I’ve done a lot of work on myself,” I say. And it’strue. I spent years in therapy, fixing the damage he did to me, but I’m not going to tell him that part. “I’m confident I can handle this opportunity, and I’m excited for it.”

I don’t know how he manages to make a smile look so condescending, but goddamn, he is good at it. “Well, I wish you the best of luck,” he says. “Just let me know if you’re having any problems, okay?”

“Of course.”Fat fucking chance.

He takes the folder on his way out, leaving behind an empty log to fill for today. I sink into the chair slowly.

Annoying as it was, that conversation was almost a welcome distraction, given how much I’ve been dreading this moment. I haven’t been able to forget X-13’s humanoid form, and the way it lurked close to the glass like it sensed me here. But now, as I raise my eyes to the window, it’s doing nothing of the sort.

The Nightmare is in the top of the far corner of its cell, forming a hazy, vaguely spidery shape. It clings to the ceiling and walls with waving tendrils of shadow. It eases my anxiety, to see it farther away and no longer so human-shaped. Something about that really unnerved me; it made me feel like it knew I was here.

Now that I’m here again, I’m doubting whether it was ever exactly humanoid at all. Maybe I was afraid and read into its shape in my fear. I’m struck by the desire to look back over my notes from yesterday and reassure myself that I saw what I saw, but I can’t. Ethan took them. And there’s no point, anyway. The notes are not for me to reassure myself of my own memory, and I’d sound like a lunatic asking to look over them the next morning when Ethan already OK’d them.

As the day proceeds, my anxiety bleeds away. I haven’t been asked to provide any stimulus, and the subject isn’t behaving any differently than it did yesterday before it changed shape. It occasionally drifts and shifts, and sometimes an eerily humanlike arm or face will emerge from its swirling darkness. But it always melts away soon after, and it never forms anything resembling a person or tries to approach the viewing window again.

Then the slot on my door opens and a folded piece of paper drops onto the floor. I stare at it for a moment before scooting my chair over to grab it. More instructions await within, just like on the slip that Ezra handed me yesterday. I’m guessing this is the normal method of receiving orders from up high. Yesterday must have been a special case because it was my first day and Ezra wanted to introduce himself.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself. Then, one by one, I go through the instructions and record the responses.

Sound 2: the subject twitches, but then gives no noticeable responses.

Scent 3: the subject wanders around the room—searching for something?—then settles in the middle of the room and idles.

Temperature increased, five degrees: no response.

Sound 3—

As soon as I hit the button to toggle the stimulus, the Nightmare’s amorphous cloud turns jagged and spiky, swirling in a way that is difficult to interpret as anything other than distress. As I start to record its response, it suddenly flings itself at the barrier between us and hits the glass with a loudthump. I jump in my chair, dropping my pen, and stare wide-eyed as it retreats and then launches itself at the barrier again.Thump. I flinch back, instinctively rolling my chair away from my desk.

It seems…upset? Maybe it’s wrong to attribute feelings to the thing inside the cell, but it’s hard not to as I watch it flail and shift and make desperate attempts to free itself from its confinement. Guilt and worry gnaw at my stomach. Did I do something wrong? It’s never reacted to other stimuli like this before.

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