Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CORINNE WILDE - PRESENT DAY
In the pitch-black of the closet, my breathing is heavy and scattered, like the chaotic footsteps beyond the door.
I press my palm to the wall, trying to collect myself, to think, but even the solid wood feels unreliable.
Like it might shift. Like it might be all in my head. Like every bit of this might.
The air is thick, and it clings to my lungs. It tastes of mothballs and mold. Dust. Like something forgotten. Abandoned. Dead.
The dark presses in around me, and it’s not only the lack of light that scares me, it’s the tightness of the space. I feel as if I can’t breathe fully, like the walls are closing in. I don’t know whether to stay or run, don’t know why I’m here, but I know I feel as if I’m drowning in this black.
Outside, I hear Greta and Conrad shouting over each other, and the banging of doors, the clattering of things hitting the floor.
“What was that?”
“What happened?”
“Someone came in. Did you see them?”
I step back, and my ankle knocks into something hard. It scrapes across the floor with a high-pitched squeal that fills the silence here. I flinch and bend to touch my ankle, to ease the pain. My balance falters, and I’m falling all too quick.
Then—a hand touches me. Long fingers wrap around my forearm, grounding me, keeping me from falling. It’s cold.
“Who—”
“Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s me.”
The relief is instant, but incomplete. Even as my heart slows, my skin crawls. Mom’s words echo in my ears. He can be anyone. Anywhere.
“Lewis?” I reach out, needing to know.
“A man followed me. He had a gun.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. I press my hands to his chest, and I know, in an instant, this is my Lewis.
It’s him.
I fall into his arms, and he wraps me up. I can’t speak. My mind fractures around his words, around our reality.
“I’m okay,” he assures me. “But, look, I don’t think you’re going to believe me.” His words are slower, like he’s not sure he’s remembering it right. Like he’s in a dream, too. “I think it was—”
“EJ,” I fill in the blank for him. The name leaves a sharp, bitter taste in my mouth. Like rust.
He inhales sharply against me. “You already knew?”
I want to tell him everything. About what I saw out the window. About Mom. And Taylor. About Greta. But my throat is dry.
It hurts to speak, to know.
“It’s a long story. For now, we need to get everyone out of here. We need to get somewhere safe, and we need to find Taylor.”
“He cut the power when I saw him. The porch lights, everything. It’s too dark to see anything. And I dropped my phone. I don’t even remember where. I had it one second, and then it was gone. I’m sorry. It was a blur.”
My skin prickles at his words, at the confirmation that EJ is behind our lack of power. Of light.
Outside the closet, the world has gone unnaturally quiet. The kind of quiet that sets your skin on fire and makes your ears ring.
“Why did you shove me in the closet?”
“I was running away from him. I didn’t…I didn’t think. I just saw you, and I needed to get you somewhere safe. This was the first place I thought of.”
Something inside me cracks at the thought that his first instinct was to save me. It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s a habit, but still. It’s nice. “I don’t have my phone either,” I admit, remembering.
“What are you talking about? Where is it?”
“I…” To answer that would require me to go much deeper into this night’s story than I’m prepared for. “It’d take too long to explain. It doesn’t matter anyway. The guys have their phones. We need to warn them. Get them out of here.”
The house is still eerily quiet outside the door, and I suspect they’ve moved into hiding places too. I hope Greta isn’t alone.
“He has a gun, Corinne,” he reminds me.
My breathing catches. “I know.”
“If we go out there, I might lose you.”
“If we don’t, we might lose everyone.”
“Why is he doing this?”
I wish I could tell him, try to explain something that still doesn’t make sense to me, but I can’t. There’s no time.
“He smiled at me when he saw me,” Lewis says, his voice trembling. “Right before he shot, he…he smiled.”
His words echo through my mind, warping into something unrecognizable. I see EJ’s face, but his mouth is stretched too wide. There are sharp, beastly teeth where his should be.
His eyes are dark, lifeless. Hollow. Something rotting behind them.
A sound creaks outside the door.
A footstep, I think.
Or maybe just the house shifting.
I can’t hide any longer. Greta’s out there. Conrad. Benji. Taylor is somewhere. None of them know what’s coming.
“We have to go,” I tell him. “I love you.” I don’t wait for his response. I shove open the closet door. The hallway stretches out in both directions, seeming longer than usual in the pale moonlight. The darkness seems to swallow everything.
My eyes struggle to adjust, and the walls look…wrong. Warped. Like Foxglove is breathing.
I blink, sure I’m imagining it.
And then—
A scream.
High-pitched and cut off too quickly.
Greta. Her voice pierces my chest like a knife. I don’t think. Don’t hesitate. I run.
Behind me, Lewis shouts, calling my name—but his voice is distant. Drowned in static. It’s as if it’s coming from a radio that’s been buried underground.
I sprint down the hallway, following the direction of her scream.