Page 52 of Lost in the Dark

“Oh, nothing. Just that I thought my friend Annie had the worst ex in the world, but I have to say, yours takes the cake. What did he go to prison for?”

“In the end, it was drugs, mostly. They couldn’t pin assault or human trafficking on him, even though I was a direct victim of physical and emotional abuse and I don’t think I was the first. In the end, I didn’t want to testify, so I sent the cops my phone, which had a lot of evidence on it, and disappeared. Changed my name, my life, everything.”

“What?!” I’ve surprised her again.

“It’s true,” I say. The cops were able to use the photos and videos on the phone as evidence of a pretty big drug operation. I figured he’d be in prison way longer, but he’s a white guy who behaved well, so naturally he got paroled.”

Haven wrinkles her nose. “Sometimes the justice system just sucks.”

“You’re not wrong. Although—"

Her phone cuts me off with a loudding!and we both jump in surprise. She glances at it and sighs. “Dammit. I have to go. But are you sure you’re going to be okay? Should I come back and check on you?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. Just act normal and pretend you don’t know where I am, okay?”

She nods. “All right. I’ll give it a few days. But if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming back.”

As soon as she’s gone, I slump deeper into the chair. I feel hazy, dazed, just like I did when Evan forced me to try his various drugs, leaving me too numb to stop him from making me to do whatever he wanted. My skin is dull and waxy, my head hurts, and I feel awful. It takes all my energy to drag myself to the kitchen for a glass of water, and once I start drinking, I can’t stop. It’s like I’m dying of thirst.

After downing four full glasses, I stagger to the bathroom; my bladder feels ready to explode. When I finish and wash my hands, I assess myself in the mirror. My hair is greasy and limp, and I’m way too pale.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Exhausted and confused, I stumble back to the bedroom, where another surprise is waiting for me.

The man from my dreams is standing in the middle of the room. He’s huge, with dark gray skin and pale gray eyes. Spikes run along his shoulders, and his skin is covered in intriguing whorls. Between the horns on his head rests a silver headpiece.

He is handsome and monstrous and terrifying, something straight from a nightmare.

Instinctively, I back away. I’m not scared, precisely. Just…confused.

“What the fuck?”

“Libra?” he says, concern in his voice.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to make my muddled mind work faster. “What? Why?”

He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. What are you, exactly? Why are you here?Howare you here? What do you want?”

He looks puzzled. “I’ve come for you.”

“Wait…you’re real? Not just a dream monster? Who are you?”

“Who am I?” He shakes his head. “Come now, Libra. You know who I am.”

I take a deep breath and try to get my brain firing. He’s right. I have met him before, multiple times, in multiple forms. Just never while I was awake. That’s what’s wrong with this scenario. He’s not supposed to be here, because I’m not sleeping.

“Callister,” I say slowly.

“Yes. It’s time to go back to the dreams. You can choose—do you want to mess with Evan again, or would you prefer something more…pleasurable?”

Wait. What’s he talking about?

“Back to the dreams? Which ones?”

“Any of them,” he says silkily. “We can revisit tentacles if you like—you seemed to enjoy those a great deal. Or if you want to face Evan in the ring again, that can be arranged. Though surely we can be more creative than to repeat what we’ve already done.”

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