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I was someplace else where flames licked around the walls. Heat surrounded me like an inferno, making sweat bead on my brow. I lay in a bed unable to move. My limbs rested limply against the mattress, too weak to move.
Sloane cried out. She was calling for me, shouting for me to help her.
Mikey leaned in front of me. “Sloane is mine now. And there’s nothing you can do to help her. You failed her just like you did Mom and Hannah. And just like you will Sawyer. Once Dad finds out, he’ll kill him.”
I clenched my jaw. “I’ll kill you.”
Mikey threw his head back and laughed like I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “You couldn’t save Mom. You couldn’t save Hannah. There’s no chance to save Sloane. And I’m going to go after Sawyer too. You failed them all. Their blood is on your hands.”
Sloane’s screams filled the air. I had to get to her before it was too late. The flames were closing in. It grew hotter in here, bathing me in a pool of sweat.
I twisted and tried to move my legs to get them underneath me, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get up from the bed.
Mikey laughed in the background, and Sloane shrieked louder. Maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn’t save them at all.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try, though. I pictured Sloane and Sawyer. They weren’t Mom and Hannah.
Both of them were still alive. They had to be. This wasn’t real. It was all in my head. I had to get back to them.
I opened my eyes. The flames practically danced right on top of me now. The blankets had caught fire, and the inferno crawled its way across the lavender comforter toward me.
Move. Fight. Dammit, do something.
My body refused to move, though.
I bellowed as the flames covered me and then consumed me.
Eight
Sloane
What if this was it? What if…
I didn’t dare finish the thought. Lincoln was going to be fine. He had to be.
Pull yourself together, Sloane!
I pushed to my knees, put my hands on Lincoln’s shoulders, and shook him. “Lincoln, you have to wake up. Snap out of it.”
I put my palm on his sweaty cheek, feeling him burning up.
Oh no. Infection must’ve set in.
His body convulsed like he was having a seizure. I needed my mom. She’d know what to do.
I shoved the tangled blankets off me and leaped out of the bed, sprinting for the door. I yanked it open so fast that it hit the wall, probably leaving a hole. I darted down the hallway, my chest tightening and lungs burning.
The hallway stretched endlessly. I pumped my arms at my sides, but what should have taken seconds seemed to take minutes.
I didn’t bother to knock on my parents’ door before storming in. “Mom, Mom, wake up. It’s Lincoln. Something’s wrong.”
Both my parents shot up from their sleep. Mom’s eyes widened, and then she climbed out of bed with Dad right behind her.
My mom grabbed her robe and threw it on. “What’s going on, Sloane?”
Tears streamed down my face, making it impossible for me to see through the blurry haze. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but I couldn’t. The lump in my throat made it so only a croak came out.
I waved at them and twisted on my heel before sprinting back to my room. Both of them followed right on my heels. I stepped into the room and then pressed my back against the wall so they could see for themselves.
