Page 11 of Don’t Let Him In

Something about the way he looks at me feels distinctly sharp. Like he’s analyzing me or dissecting me or I don’t know what. At some point, I quit dodging his coffee-ground eyes and hold them despite the unease crawling up my throat.

It’s then that I notice the shadows under his eyes, the overgrown mop of hair spilling across his brow and deepening the tired grooves carved into his face until he looks worn down in the same way I feel.

Strangely, a ripple of relief unwinds through me. For a second, I convince myself he’s probably part of the trail crew. He has to be.

Except I didn’t see any other cars parked up front besides Dax’s Jeep. My mind scrambles for a reasonable explanation.

I could’ve missed it. Just like I almost did the first time.

His voice slices through the web of thoughts. “What are you doing out here this late? These woods get rough when the weather turns bad.”

My nose twitches as I brush my free hand over the side of my face, smoothing back strands I’d already tucked away just to give myself something to do under the weight of his stare, the sour stench thickening in the damp air.

Rotting wood, I think to myself, my boot scuffing along the uneven porch as I try to push away the memory of Dax’s betrayal.

To my horror, my eyes prickle with tears. The floorboards waver out of focus when something small twitches behind him, further down.

I gasp, my eyes rounding wide.

His brow furrows as he slowly cants his head, following my line of sight until he spots the heaving clump of fur wedged beside an old planter a few inches back, the white ceramic chipped and streaked with grime…and splotches of blood.

Acid burns in my throat.

Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a squirrel, twisted at an unnatural angle with one leg bent wrong, the fur matted and tinged dark in places. The edge of my phone drives the jagged teeth of my keys deeper into my skin. Its eyes are crusted nearly shut, lifeless enough that I would’ve thought it was already dead if not for the slow, heavy intakes of breath, its sides shuddering weakly against the planter’s curved base.

“Poor guy,” Manson murmurs, the wood groaning as he kneels beside the injured creature.

I stiffen, my pointer finger returning to the hangnail on my thumb until it splits down the middle in a searing sting.

A hiss slips through my teeth as my hand flies to my mouth, sucking the metallic tang from the torn cuticle while my head throbs again, a dull ringing tolling in my ears. Louder. Louder.

My stomach drops when he reaches for a flat stone beside it, every trace of moisture vanishing from my mouth.

The gears in my mind shift and churn, moving into overdrive, and before I know it, the protest sparks off my tongue. “Wait!”

His neck cranks around, glancing at me over his shoulder. His eyes are still and unflinching, matching the stone in his hand.

A pulse jumps in my throat. “What are you doing?”

The squirrel spasms weakly at the edge of his knee, dread spearing through me with dizzying force.

He’s quiet for a second, something unreadable flickering across his face.

“It’s hurt,” he finally says, rainwater gathering at the ends of his pale hair before slipping into narrow trails along his jaw. “I’m helping it.”

As his attention turns forward again, bile climbs higher in my throat. My stomach twists violently as I lean deeper against the side of the house, one arm stretched behind me while every instinct in me strains to put distance between us. Quietly. Carefully.

A bone cracks. The whimpering fades.

Beneath me, the world shifts, tipping me off-kilter.

Cold metal grazes my back, and I gasp as the door gives out behind me, flying open hard enough to send me reeling backward with an uncontrolled yelp.

My car keys spring from my hand, plunging somewhere across the floor. By the time I catch my balance, my gaze feverishly skims across the floorboards in search of them before I fumble with the phone in my clammy grip, trying to swipe on the flashlight. The screen glitches, freezes.

Shit.

Around me, the walls seem to inch closer with every passing second as darkness crowds the corners. I jam my thumb against the frozen screen, silently pleading with it to work before the front door slams shut, the frame shuddering with the impact.