Page 35 of Possess Me

I try to cry out, but the voice is only in my head. He’s walking toward me, this man who looks like Damien. Who is Damien.

And yet he isn’t.

Basil.

The air presses against my skin, heavy and damp, as if it’s trying to hold me in place. Damien moves toward me, his steps deliberate, his face twisted in a way I don’t recognize, as if he’s fighting something horrible.

As if he’s fighting himself.

Another step. Then another. And still not a word. Nothing to let me know if he’s still my husband. If he’s Basil. Or if he’s someone else.

Or something worse.

“Damien,” I whisper, my voice trembling. My body feels frozen, locked between fear and disbelief. “Please, it’s me.”

But is it?

Fight, a voice in my head whispers. Fight like I never did.

I glance down at the bodice of the dress I’m wearing. I reach up to touch the carefully styled waves that frame my face. I trace my finger over my lips, then look at my fingertip, now smeared with blood-red lipstick.

I don’t remember. I don’t have any memory of dressing this way, and I shift to the side so that I can see myself in the full-length mirror. It’s me. Thank god, it’s me.

And yet there’s something else there, too. A shimmer. Vivien.

Help him fight. The voice is only in my head, and I tremble from the desperation and terror. He is fighting. Help him. Don’t let Basil win. Don’t meet my fate.

I release a slow breath as a small respite of calm washes over me, only to be ripped away by a new voice, dark and slithering. Don’t trust her. Nothing is what it seems.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to trust. I don’t even know if the voices are real or if I’m going crazy.

All I can do is look to Damien—my life. My love. The only person I have ever fully trusted, yet right now, I can see the battle raging inside him, and I know that he hears the voices, too. But he doesn’t have Vivien. I don’t know why, but I’m certain she’s only with me, and that means he’s fighting the oily darkness alone.

He takes an anguished step forward, his face a battlefield. I can see it—the man I love fighting against something dark and cruel. Basil.

Or maybe something worse.

His hands tremble at his sides, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with rage and something else. Pain. Desperation.

And then he’s himself.

For the briefest flash, his eyes soften, and I see the love that I know so well. “Take … it … off.” The words seem forced out of him, as if he’s fighting to speak. “Have to … hurry…The sn—”

I scream, then scramble away as his body contorts even as he lunges for me. No. It isn’t him who is after me, it’s the creature inside him.

“Go!” The cry is ripped out of him, followed by a howl of pain that breaks my heart. But I go—I go like he said, racing to the bathroom, then slamming the door shut behind me as I try to figure out what I’m supposed to do.

Take it off.

Take what off?

Unsure, I strip off Vivien’s gown and use the silky material to wipe off my make-up. Then I scrub my face until I can look in the mirror and see only me.

A hard knock sounds at the door, making the wood shake. “Bitch!”

It’s Damien’s voice, and yet it’s not.

“Damien.” I choke his name out past the tears, my voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do. Please, please. I don’t know what to do.”