Page 62 of In Her Dreams
***
“They’re coming,” Anthony said, each word a victory over both the hypnotic suggestion and his lifelong fear.“It’s over.”
“Nothing is over,” Summers snarled.Her free hand struck out, catching him across the face with enough force to split his lip.The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
They grappled awkwardly, two elite professionals unused to physical confrontation, yet driven by opposing desperations—his to survive until help arrived, hers to silence him permanently.They crashed into the coffee table, sending books and papers flying.A lamp toppled, the bulb shattering against the hardwood floor.
Anthony’s heart continued its painful, erratic rhythm, but each second he remained standing, each moment he continued fighting, was a second longer than Summers had intended him to live.
He just had to hold on.
***
Jenna and Jake burst from the stairwell, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the plush hallway carpet as they raced toward apartment 612.
Jake reached the door first and rapped sharply.
“Dr.Walsh?Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins,” Jenna called out.
A crash sounded from inside the apartment—followed by a thud and muffled voices.
The door flew open suddenly.Dr.Anthony Walsh stood in the doorway, a terrifying sight—face ashen except for a trickle of blood from his lip, hair wild, eyes wide with panic.He clutched his chest with one hand while the other gripped the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“She’s trying to kill me,” he gasped, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush.
Before he could finish, Walsh’s knees buckled.Jake lunged forward, catching the psychiatrist before he hit the floor.Walsh’s weight sagged against him, semi-conscious but still mumbling incoherently.“She did this...to me...to them...”
Jake moved swiftly to support Walsh against the wall.“I’ve got him,” he assured Jenna.“You go get Summers.”
Jenna’s hand instinctively went to her weapon.“Dr.Summers,” she called firmly, “hands where I can see them.”
Olivia stood there, hair disheveled and clothes askew, a far cry from her usual composed demeanor.Her eyes darted between Jenna and Jake, then without another word she bolted toward the nearest door.
***
Olivia burst into the bedroom, seeking escape from the sheriff, only to find herself facing a more terrifying adversary—her own reflection staring back at her from the closet’s full-length mirror.The sight hit her with physical force, driving the air from her lungs in a strangled gasp.
“No, no, no,” she whispered.
Behind her, she vaguely registered the sheriff’s voice, demanding something.But the words were meaningless compared to the horror before her.Olivia tried to turn away, but her gaze remained locked on the mirror as if magnetized.
The memory flashed unbidden—her grandmother’s ornate mirror, the sudden argument, her mother’s raised voice, her grandmother’s wild gesture, the sickening crack of glass splintering, her grandmother’s face split into dozens of distorted versions, each one seeming to contain some monstrous truth.
“Dr.Summers!”The sheriff’s voice penetrated her consciousness momentarily, but it was distant, unimportant compared to the need to escape the mirrored surface that held her captive.
Olivia stumbled backward, desperate for any direction that would take her away from the reflection.The room swam around her, furniture and walls blurring together.
Light.There was light coming from somewhere behind her.Daylight.Olivia turned toward it blindly.
The balcony doors were open, the late afternoon sun streaming through.She lurched toward the brightness, hands outstretched like a drowning person reaching for rescue.
The balcony.The sixth floor.Some distant part of her mind registered these facts, but they held no meaning against the overwhelming need to put distance between herself and the mirror.
“Stop!Dr.Summers!”
The sheriff’s voice again, closer now, urgent.But the words were just sounds, meaningless against the rushing in Olivia’s ears.Her body moved on pure instinct, driven by the most primitive part of her brain—the part that recognized only threat and escape.
And then she was falling, the ground rushing up to meet her with the inevitability of all things she had tried to control but never could.
