Page 42 of Cruel Cravings

The door bursts open with a deafening crash. The dresser and wardrobe skid out of the way as strips of broken wood fly everywhere. A hulking figure steps into the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame.

He’s monstrous in size, larger than should be humanly possible. Shadows engulf him, only the light from the other room silhouetting his huge form. He stands in the doorway for a moment, letting the terror settle over the room before he starts toward the bed.

Me.

He’s wearing the minotaur mask again, his mangled face obscured.

The room begins to shrink around him. His presence fills every corner. It sucks up what little air exists in the room.

Step by step, floorboard creak after floorboard creak, he closes in on me.

He grows closer, a true predator about to finally devour his prey.

I’ve frozen up, forgetting about the rifle next to me. Even forgetting how to scream.

My mouth drops open and I force the sound out?—

I snap awake with a gasp, bolting upright in bed. I’m slicked in sweat, huffing out sharp breaths.

The room is quiet. The door is intact.

There’s nobody in here with me. I’m alone with the rifle and hunting knife, lying in bed.

It was all a dream.

I drop my face into my hands and tell myself it was all a dream. I must’ve drifted off without even realizing it.

He got into my head.

He’s with me even when he isn’t.

I clutch the rifle to my chest and squeeze shut my eyes, willing myself to slip back off to sleep.

But when sleep does return, it’s no better than imagining Bull breaking down the door. Instead, my dreams are more nightmares. Distorted images that rattle me to my core. Things I’ve dreamed before. That I’ve told myself aren’t real.

“Go hide,” says the man who is my sister’s instructor. A smile twists onto his lips as he taps me on my bottom and a coldness grips me from the inside. “Go find somewhere dark where monsters will never find you.”

And I do.

I turn and take off through the arched halls of his huge home. I run while my sister plays, the beautiful melodies from her music following me wherever I go.

When I do find a place to hide, I scurry inside the closet and try to make myself disappear among the racks of clothes. But it’s no use—it’s only a matter of minutes before the door’s drawing open and the monster’s coming inside…

I wake naturally, hours into the morning. The birds are twittering outside and the sunlight breaks through the wooded area, spilling into the bedroom. I’m twisted up in the bedspread, a sore hand still clutching at the hunting rifle.

For a while, I lay like this, my expression vacant. My mind no lighter than when I went to sleep.

A night’s rest didn’t bring me the clarity I hoped. My slate’s not wiped clean. If anything, I feel worse. I feel sane yet deeply aware of all the things haunting me. At least before I could lose myself in the manic feelings. I could disappear into my imagination.

But, for the first time in as long as I can remember, IknowI’m damaged. I know how.

It’s on my mind the rest of the morning.

Opening the bedroom door for the first time since last night, I pad down the hall and turn into the kitchen. After making myself a small breakfast—the Klums have blueberry oatmeal in their pantry—I pour some of what’s leftover into a bowl and grab a spoon.

Bull’s where I left him, still chained to the chair. His eyes seek mine out from the moment I enter the room. He watches me approach with the bowl of oatmeal, giving no reaction either way. I drag the chair I’d been sitting in last night closer and sit down.

“You must be starving.”

---