Page 55 of Monsters Like Us
Outside, the wind threads through the pines, making them shake, the sound like an ocean.
Tomorrow, the world will keep turning like nothing happened to us. We’ll decide what we burn and what we keep.
But tonight, we light the stove, curl under the thermal blankets on a small bed that creaks, listening to Ashwood Hollow breathe.
Micah curls me against him, his head tipping against mine. His weight is an anchor, and for the first time since the basement, sleep finds us like mercy we didn’t earn.
We close our eyes, not fearing Devil’s Night. We’ve been through worse. Much worse.
We can handle whatever comes our way.
CHAPTER 47
Katana
The bathroom mirroris streaked with old age, the silver peeling around the edges, but it’s enough to see my reflection. Enough to view the scab where I clamped down during the shocks. The skin is torn and swollen, evidence of the way pain worms its way into places it shouldn’t.
I drag my fingertip across it, hating the reminder. Hating how broken I still look.
A shadow stirs behind me.
When I lift my gaze, Micah stands there, silent and still. The white, hollow-eyed Michael Myers mask covers his face. His dark eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he cocks his head.
My chest lurches, then locks. My lungs forget what to do.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
The words cut straight through the mask, through the silence, through me.
My heart gallops and my lip trembles. Behind the horror, behind the game, I see the truth. He’s choosing to delight in my fantasies, choosing to play with me.
A tremor of laughter shakes my chest. “Michael Myers. My favorite villain.” My voice is raspy, shaky, but real.
For the first time since the basement, he sees the hunger flickering in my hazel eyes.
“He has nothing on me. I’m your favorite villain.” His voice is low and rough, yet it slides over my skin like silk. He lifts the pocketknife, the blade gleaming dull under the single lightbulb. “Better run, little murderess.”
For a long, thrumming second, I stare at him. Testing him.
Then instinct sparks, and I whip around, my elbow catching his ribs as I dart past.
A laugh—an actual, genuine laugh—bursts from my chest as I shove the cabin door open and run into the darkness.
The night presses close, black trees hemming me in, swallowing me whole. My breath clouds the chilly October air in white puffs. My heart hammers against my rib cage. My legs burn as I run. I know I should be terrified, but the laughter spilling from my lips is real, sharp, and wild. Free.
He’s behind me. While that should scare me, it doesn’t. My monster surrounds me, keeping me safe.
Branches snap, as loud as gunfire. My head whips over my shoulder. The mask glints in the dark, pale and blank, his dark eyes peering through the holes. His pace is leisurely as he chases me. He wants me to run, knowing he’ll catch me.
I spin back around, my heart lurching, my legs tearing through the underbrush. My lungs sting. My teeth bite into my lip, reopening the split from the shocks. I taste blood, copper, and heat. It only makes me run faster.
The crack of footsteps on branches gains on me. I don’t turn around, knowing it’ll slow me down.
An arm wraps around my waist like an iron band, jerking me off my feet.
I shriek—half fear, half delirious laughter—kicking against nothing as my back collides with his chest. His growl vibrates against my spine, low and guttural. “Mine.”
His words fill me with joy, but still I thrash, his heatcutting through the chill in the air. He bends his head, teeth grazing my throat as he lifts the mask. My breath shatters into fragments. His lips—hot and rough—find my pulse point, biting until I gasp his name.
