Page 69 of Fear Me Not

Creaak…creak. Creaak…creak. Creaak…creak.

What is that noise? I can’t place it, yet it fills me with dread.

With agonizing slowness, I shift my gaze to the other side of the room.

A woman’s feet are suspended in mid-air. They’re bare, the toes pointing toward the floor. As I watch, they swing back and forth in time with the creaking sound.

No, oh, God. No.

She’s real, but yet she isn’t. I can’t tear my gaze from her, and, as I stare, more of her appears, taking shape as though from smoke. The rest of her legs are hidden from view by a voluminous skirt, and she swings back and forth from a rope that hangs from a beam that no longer exists.

I want to scream and run and hide, but I’m pinned to the bed. She wants me to see this; that’s why I’m being held here.

Her head is tilted to one side, the rope around her neck. I see she’s only a girl—maybe even younger than I am. She is not alone. Either side of her are two men, older, their faces covered in whiskers, and wearing old fashioned clothing. They’re holding her legs—are they trying to save her or are they the reason she’s hanging?

I know they’re not real, that it’s impossible they’re here now, but that doesn’t stop my terror. She knows I’m here; I’m sure of it. She’s trying to tell me something.

I stare at her face, the awkward angle to her head fascinating me and horrifying me in equal measures. Her eyes spring open, locking on me, and her mouth opens as she says one word that I can’t hear but that I understand, nonetheless.

“Leave.”

My paralysis suddenly breaks, and I shoot upright in bed. I scramble to get out, the sheets tangling in my legs, and I fall off the side of the bed with a thump. By the time I manage to get back to my feet, the apparition has gone, but there is no way in hell I’m staying in this room. I’m gripped by panic, so terrified I’m worried I might vomit, but nothing will stop me from getting the hell out of here.

I run for the door, but before I can even get there, the handle clicks and then slowly opens by itself. I whimper in terror, but I keep going. I won’t stay here alone, waiting for whatever the hotel decides to throw at me next.

I burst out of the door and into the hallway, and then I’m running, as fast as I can, toward Blake’s bedroom.

38

BLAKE

My bedroom door flies open, hard enough to crack against the wall behind, and Aspen runs straight through it. She throws herself at me, where I’m now sitting up in bed, and clings to me like a spider monkey. Her entire body is trembling, and she’s making words and sounds I can’t quite decipher.

One of my hands goes around her back, the other to her hair.

“Pen, hey, Pen. It’s okay. You’re all right. What’s happened?”

Something has happened; that much is clear. She’s absolutely terrified. She’s seen something, and I’m pretty sure it has to do with the hotel.

I reach out and turn on the bedside lamp, perhaps for both our reassurance, flooding the room with light. She doesn’t have any kind of reaction to the light, but continues to cling to me like her life depends on it.

The thought pops into my head that this might not be her. It might not be the real Aspen. This could be the hotel screwing with me as well. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve had more than one horrifyingly erotic vision featuring her now, and I’m starting to mistrust what I see and touch. Each time, it feels and looks and even fucking smells like her, but as soon as I climax, it morphs into something else and vanishes.

I’m sure Aspen has noticed how I’ve pulled back from her physically. It’s not been intentional on my part. I’ve just always got in the back of my mind that the woman I’m touching might not be her. The hotel is fucking with all of us in its own way. I believe it sees our weaknesses and uses them against us. In this case, it’s using Aspen to make me weak.

And it’s working.

I hold her tight, my pulse quickening in anticipation of this version of Aspen to reveal itself to not be her at all. I tell myself that I can’t think like that. This is her, and she clearly needs me. I must put all my fears to one side because I owe it to her. With everything I’ve put her through, she deserves for me to be my best self now, and not a coward she’s accused me of being.

Her sobs continue, breaking my heart, and she’s still shaking. I stroke her hair and whisper that everything’s all right, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

What if she can’t handle this place until the thaw? What if none of us can?

But her warm, supple body in my arms is exactly the reason I brought her here. We can be strong for one another, and that will be enough for us to make it to spring.

I check the time. Just past three a.m. It’s the witching hour, the time when the veil between us and the other side becomes the thinnest. She’s seen something, and I’m not entirely sure I want to know what, but once she catches her breath, I’m sure she’s going to tell me.

Eventually, her shaking subsides, and her sobs morph to tiny hitched breaths. For a moment, I think she’s fallen asleep in my arms, but then she lifts her head and wipes away her tears.