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I lose myself to the darkness, to the strange mist that shrouds my vision, and when I finally come back to myself, it’s to see I’m still sitting on the man’s chest.
The dead man.
He’s been stabbed over a dozen times.
“Oh…god. No.” I stumble away from him in horror, my gaze automatically dipping to my hands. They don’t appear to look any different, if you don’t count the blood splatters.
Blood splatters.
From the man I killed.
“Oh, fuck. No. No. No.” I can’t peel my eyes off my tiny hands, capable of inflicting so much violence.
I killed a man.
I stabbed him.
I stabbed him.
I stabbed him.
After he stabbed Landon.
“Landon!” I crawl on my hands and knees toward him, adrenaline causing my body to shake erratically.
Landon is so fucking still.
Is he even breathing?
“Someone, help!” I scream, hovering my hands over his chest, unsure of where I should touch him. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I need to stop the bleeding, but there’s just so much damn blood. It’s everywhere. “Help me!”
Landon walked us pretty far away from the lobby, but I’m hopeful someone can hear my screams, even with the cement walls enclosing us.
I can’t leave Landon.
Not when he looks so pale. So sickly. So…dead.
“Landon!” I sob as I bring a trembling hand to his neck.
He doesn’t have a pulse.
He doesn’t have a fucking pulse.
Horror fills my veins, dark and caustic, and a scream bubbles in my chest.
“Landon, oh god. Please no. Please.”
“Ellie?” a slightly familiar voice calls.
“In here!” I scream, just as Raymond’s righthand man, Teak, hurries into the room. His eyes volley between me, the dead clown, and Landon. “You have to help him. Please. Oh, god. Please. Help him. Please. Oh…oh, fuck. Please.”
Teak’s face remains impassive as he takes a step closer.
“I’m sorry, Ellie,” he says, just as something sharp pokes my neck.
A dart.
But why?—?
