Page 18 of Don’t Let Him In

The world doesn’t settle back into place.

Looking up again, I try to focus on the long, tousled waves spilling down Blair’s back, but the teal strands only swell wider in my vision, blurring together as her body rocks with stifled tears that dissolve into distant shouting.

Through it all, the buzzing in my ears only grows louder, drilling deeper behind my eyes until the pressure turns unbearable.

Huddled in the room’s dark interior, I cringe as a burnt chemical tang begins to seep through the air. My nose scrunches while I trace the scent toward the ceiling, neck protesting the movement until I notice thin ribbons of smoke twisting from the single exposed lightbulb in the center of the room.

Confusion knots low in my stomach.

There’s no way this place still has electricity.

Blair hacks out a sudden cough, stumbling away from the door once the acrid fumes reach her. One hand flails in front of her face while her eyes ping across the tight space, glossed with tears.

Slowly, she tilts her head toward the ceiling, eyes narrowing as the buzzing sharpens overhead. Smoke thickens around the exposed bulb, curling faster and faster until⁠—

It shatters with an ear-splitting pop.

Strangled yelps burst from both of us, my arms shooting over my head as glass cascades across the room, fragments clinking across the scuffed planks just short of my knees.

When the sharp clatter tapers off, I crack one eye open through the cage of my fingers, staring at the scattered fragments glittering across the dreary, ill-lit room, dust motes floating lazily above them.

Then the old door finally creaks open, popping at the end of its arc.

Flinching, I whirl around just as Blair pivots toward Dax, renewed dread slipping down my spine at the sight of him shrouded in the doorway, his expression drawn tight. “Shit, are you okay?”

Blair lets out a stunned gasp, grabbing onto the collar of his jacket in a brief, desperate embrace. Relief only lasts a second before she yanks back to swat his chest hard enough to draw a hiss out of him. “Why’d you do that?” she chokes out, nails biting into her palms.

“What the hell are you on about?” he rips out the words impatiently. “I should be asking you that.”

“Me?” she shrieks, her entire frame shaking beside him as she flings a finger toward the shattered lightbulb behind us, launching straight into a panicked ramble recounting everything that’s just happened.

Brows furrowed, he cocks his head to glance over her shoulder, his gaze settling on the scattered fragments strewn across the floorboards.

My chest tightens as I watch them, the cracks spreading quietly through me, mimicking the splintered glass behind me.

Toxic fumes infiltrate my head as their argument dissolves into unintelligible noise, the room around me blurring into a sick, disorienting haze.

By the time they’re done bickering, he pulls her into a tight embrace, his hand smoothing over the back of her head while she sniffles into him.

A few moments later, they retreat out of the room, their voices fading further and further away.

Leaving me behind.

Alone with my own thoughts for the first time since walking into this house, the full weight of everything crashes over me hard enough to make something inside me cave inward.

It feels worse than the day I lost my father. Worse than enduring years trapped beneath the same roof as the woman he remarried and all the heartless ways she learned to chip away at whatever was left of me.

Because despite all of that, I still had Dax.

Or maybe I only thought I did.

Now I’m left rifling through every small, intimate moment between us, trying to figure out how I missed all the cracks until something uglier finally claws its way past the grief.

Anger.

Its virulence catches me off guard, burning away the numbness fast enough to make me dizzy with it. Near the doorway, Manson shifts subtly, lashes so thick and hooded I can barely make out the dark brown of his eyes, leaving him unreadable.

Melting deeper into the ground, my arms tremble as I scuffle back in a hesitant, jerky motion, unable to control myself. Every inch of my body stings and aches, but it’s the spikes encapsulating the inner walls of my chest that threaten to crush me and send daggers pricking behind my eyes.