Page 136 of Never Die for a Sinner
Bad fucking idea, Cross.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” she asks, and I swear to God, my heart beats unsteadily for a moment. “Please?”
Fuck. If I had more time, I’d find a way to remove that word from her vocabulary. She has way too much power when she uses it on me.
Looking down at her, I push the hair back from her face, and I can see she’s fading fast. It’s only for a few minutes, so what could it hurt?
“Fine,” I murmur, bending down and scooting her over in the bed. I climb on top of the covers, still dressed, and let her cuddle into my arms. This is the first time I’ve ever cuddled another person, and I have no fucking idea what to do with my hands, so I’m glad she’ll be too drunk to remember this.
She falls silent, her breathing soft and slow. I think she’s passed out almost immediately, before she speaks.
“I want to ask,” she says, her eyes closed as she lays her head on my chest. “Why did you show up tonight?”
It’s not until after her breathing evens out and I know she’s fallen asleep that I can bring myself to reply.
“I’d do anything for you.”
The corridor is dark, nearly pitch-black, save for a faint blue glow at the end of the hall.
I stalk toward it, looking down to find a gun in my hand.
Strange. I hadn’t even realized I was holding it.
The hallway isn’t long, but each step toward the door seems to carry me further and further away. I keep pushing because something tells me Ihaveto get to that door.
As I draw closer, I realize where I am.
I’m at home, in the same hallway I follow every night, and that door? That’sthedoor.
When I reach it, I hesitate. I know I have to go in, but there’s a sinking sensation in my chest, and I’m unsure of what I’ll find.
Carefully, I push the door, and the old hinges creak from being unused for so long. The door opens, banging back against the wall behind it, and I take in the room. Everything has been stripped bare. The furniture is covered in white cloth. The canopy stripped from the bed.
The only light is from the TV glowing in the corner of the room, cackling with static.
Something’s not right.
I glance at the bed, afraid to look, but instead of him, I seeher.Lying peacefully in the center of the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing soft.
“Ava, wake up.” I shake her, but she doesn’t wake. She doesn’t even stir. “Ava.”
“She won’t wake.”
I spin at the sound of the voice, raising the gun in my hand.
No one.
All that’s there are the shadows created by the static and the looming sense of foreboding.
“She’ll die here. You know it, and I know it. Everyone who loves you always does.”
“Show yourself,” I grit, only to be met with a cackle that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I know that fucking voice.
“Sweetie,” my mother purrs, stepping out of the shadows on the opposite side of the bed, only . . . it’s not here. Her face—it’s wrong. Distorted. Sharp.
Something about it sets me on edge, and I glance nervously down at Ava.
