Chapter Thirty-Two
I scramble backwards on the carpet, crashing into the dresser. The jewellery stand tumbles sideways and falls on my head in a shower of jade and tarnished gold.
‘This can’t …’ I whisper. This can’t be happening. ‘How …’
You know how, answers a tiny voice at the back of my head.
The beast sits motionless on the floor like a human-sized stuffed animal.
Its wrinkled skin reflects dully in the lamplight, small, misshapen scales where there once was blond hair.
Avery’s face has elongated into a snout, two slits for a nose on either side, her eyes reddish and small.
A thick tail almost as long as her body has sprouted behind her, striped grey and white. Any trace of Avery is gone.
‘So, um …’ I murmur, extending a single finger in her direction.
As if the sound of my voice has flipped a switch, the beast that was Avery rears its head up and widens its jaws, revealing a long pink tongue that’s flanked by rows and rows of jagged, shark-like teeth.
It thrashes its body around to face me, its tail crashing into the nightstand behind it and plunging the room into darkness.
Scrabbling to my feet, I grope through the blackness for the door, a force like a battering ram driving into the backs of my legs.
Light spills into the darkened room as soon as I get the door open.
The beast shoves past me, almost knocking me flat, but I grip the edge of the doorway to stop myself from falling.
I step into the hallway but the beast heaves itself up on its two back legs, rising a full head taller than me, and stands directly in front of the staircase, blocking my way out.
Pivoting quickly, I race down the hall, throwing myself inside the nearest bedroom and slamming the door.
The beast must’ve only been half a second behind me, because it hurtles its great body against the door, rattling the wood on its hinges.
The doorknob jerks, but doesn’t give as the beast paws at it.
‘You don’t have thumbs, asshole!’ I shout.
The responding crash against the door splinters the wood.
I spin on my heel, body ringing with terror, and glance frantically around the room for another way out.
There’s a messy single bed, pine-green walls, heaps of dirty clothes on the floor and a desk littered with candy wrappers, chip bags and empty Gatorade bottles. I’m in Elliott’s room.
A single window is set into the opposite wall above a small air conditioning unit. I know there’s nothing below it except a straight drop to the backyard, which means there’s no way I’d make it down without breaking one or both of my legs.
I lunge towards the only other door in the room, one that leads to Elliott’s closet.
My footsteps are drowned out by the increasingly violent thumps of the beast careering its body against the wood.
I knew the first time Tyler changed was chaotic, but this – this feels insane.
My fingers close around the closet doorknob as I try to turn it, but it doesn’t budge.
I shake it harder, throw my shoulder against the door, but it’s like tossing paperclips at a concrete wall.
‘Who locks their closet doors?’ I yell uselessly.
I’m trapped.
Another almighty crash from the hallway sends me leaping over Elliott’s bed to crouch down in the narrow gap between the frame and the wall. The breaths that come out of me are jittery and uneven, my whole body shaking. Tyler has never hurt anyone when he’s been a beast, but this is Avery.
All at once, the smashing sound stops, leaving a tense silence in its place that’s almost worse. That’s when the screaming starts.
The noise from downstairs is startled at first. Confused.
But then the screams become shrill, petrified.
Glass shatters, there’s more smashing. The whole house seems to shake, as though the roof itself is at risk of caving in.
I tuck my head between my knees and wrap my fingers around the back of my neck, my eyes squeezed shut.
‘This is my fault this is my fault this is my fault this is my fault this is my fault,’ I whisper on a loop until the words don’t sound like words any more.
I don’t know how much time passes; it could be seconds or minutes, but when I lift my head again, the screaming has stopped.
Elliott’s bedroom door is now only connected to its frame by a single hinge.
Something must’ve drawn the beast’s attention away from me, possibly the twelve or so drunk boys playing Xbox downstairs.
I’m sure beast-Avery would’ve enjoyed chasing them.
I tiptoe down in silence. The living room is complete carnage, the couch cushions shredded into yellow ribbons, the coffee table smashed in half.
Laura is gonna be so pissed. A large hole has been punched through the TV, which now hangs on the wall at a wonky angle.
Beer bottles, Laura’s collection of Italian cookbooks, red plastic cups, all litter the floor.
The front door is wide open, swinging gently and letting in a faint breeze.
‘Hello?’ I call out to the empty room. ‘Is anyone still here?’
There’s no blood, which is probably a good sign.
I continue moving through the dining room and then the kitchen, but there’s nobody here.
Glass crunches beneath my shoes from the smashed liquor bottles.
Down the centre of the screen door is a long tear where someone – or something – ripped through it in a frenzy to get out.
‘Anyone?’ I say.
A scraping sound echoes from behind the pantry door.
Hearing it sets the hairs on my arms standing straight, my body prickling with goosebumps.
I inch towards it, swallowing hard. There’s a high chance it’s the beast, waiting with a sick irony for me to be the one to open the door to it this time, but what if it’s not?
What if it’s Sam, or Elliott or Julian? What if they’re hurt, because of me?
I throw the pocket door to the side, my heart so high in my throat I might throw up, but it’s not the beast poised to strike.
Cowering in a tiny ball on the pantry floor, wide eyes framed by wet mascara smudges and dark hair frizzy around her olive skin, is Cassidy.
At the sight of me standing over her, she cringes.
‘Are you okay?’ I say, kneeling down.
Her whole body is shaking. ‘I … it was … it just … it was … I …’ she stammers through chattering teeth.
‘Where did it go?’ I ask.
Cassidy lifts a trembling finger and points towards the backyard. I push myself to my feet and open the tattered screen. Lawn chairs are overturned, drinks have been abandoned. Only the firepit is still roaring with life. Everyone has run, which means Avery could be anywhere.
Standing away from the fire, it’s much colder outside than I remember, even with my sweater on. I wrap my arms around my torso, shivering, and pull out my phone. My fingers shake as I find the right name.
The phone’s ringing is hollow as it echoes in my ears. It feels like five years before anyone answers, though I know it’s probably only five seconds. But when I hear the voice on the other end of the line, the feeling that crashes over me can only be described as pure relief.
‘Hey,’ I say, my throat suddenly thick with tears. ‘Where are you?’