Page 17 of Don’t Let Him In
Then loses all substance and sinks through her entirely.
My arm recoils instinctively as the last thread of denial snaps. The room tilts out of alignment. Everything feels weightless and unbearably heavy all at once, like I’m drifting further out of reach of the world around me while my body lags behind, dense and useless.
I try to inhale, desperate for oxygen, but my throat is an impenetrable seal, my hands clamoring at my neck as the shadows ahead of me swim and distort, twisting into shapes I can’t blink away.
I need to wake up—
—I need…to wake…wake up.
Tearing a hand away, I drag myself further back across the gritty floor, unsure of what else to do to make this nightmare end.
Why can’t they see me? Why can’t they hear me?
In my frantic backward crawl, my palm slams into a broken plank, the brittle crack splitting through the room, severing the silence.
A startled gasp breaks out beside me, followed by the groan of shifting wood. My head jerks toward the sound in time to see Blair stagger into the door behind her. It slams shut, rattling the frail walls.
Her shoulders hitch with a shallow, hiccupping cry before diffusing into silence.
I try to swallow the past, the abrasive ache lodged in my throat, wet lashes fluttering as I cling to the tiny bit of consciousness I still manage to find within myself.
My brows knit together. A clammy sheen gathers between them as I watch her press herself tighter against the door, raw fright tightening her expression before her gaze flicks around the room, skimming past me entirely.
Releasing a shaky laugh that sounds more strained than relieved, she turns back toward the door, slender fingers curling around the tarnished knob.
She twists gently at first. “D-Dax?”
Her other hand flies to the knob as panic creeps back into her expression. The muscles in her arms tense while she wrenches it harder this time, knuckles blanching with the effort.
The damn thing still won’t give.
Push past her. Do it now.
Run.
Instead, I calcify in place as the space between us turns impossible to cross. Then bedlam erupts.
“Blair?” Dax calls from the other side, his voice muted by the door, concern edging into it. “Blair, what’s going on?” There’s a knock on the other end. “Open up.”
Her head cranes higher, ear pressing against the weathered wood, flaking paint catching in the strands of her hair. “I can’t,” she cries. “I’m trying—”
She yanks at the stubborn knob again, brows pinched together when it refuses to budge. “Are you letting go of it?”
“What are you talking about?”
Blair’s voice pitches higher, unable to steady it. “Seriously, stop screwing with me.”
A dull buzzing fills my ears. Fills my head.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” he says, agitation bleeding into his voice now.
Outside, the rain begins to slow, the heavy patter suddenly going silent, allowing the door’s banging and the sharp squawk of metal to take over. The pressure builds in my ears until it peaks, then flattens into the distance as I’m pulled from the moment.
My focus drifts from her to the floorboards.
They slant beneath me.
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I bow my head between my knees, trying to relieve the dull ache in my neck, fingertips digging harder into the raised planks beside me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them again.
