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Yawning wide, I swipe the screen of the iPad, diving back into the organized chaos of Yulia’s schedule. An early start in the kitchen, followed by a day full of lessons for Yulia – math, language, piano. My head spins just looking at it.
My brow lifts at the next item – horseback riding. I blink, pausing to process that.
Horseback riding. Really?
I can’t help the snort that escapes me. Of course, they’d have horses. Why wouldn’t they?
Rubbing my face, I strain to hear any sound from across the hall. Nothing. A frustrating void where Luka should be.
Dammit, Sophia. He’s off-limits.
It’s nearly 2 a.m., according to the cruel digits on my watch. With a sigh, I peel out of my clothes, the fabric pooling on the cold tiles under my feet. I’m left standing in my bare skin, the chill raising goosebumps along my arms.
The tub’s already half-full, the water running from the faucet like a promise of relief. I dip a toe in, then my foot, the heat of it snaking up my leg and luring a moan from my lips.
Tossing my bra and panties to the side, I step into the tub. The water swallows me whole, the heat seeping into my pores, untangling my muscles. It’s a slice of heaven in this concrete hell.
It’s just me, the steam curling off the water and the deafening silence of the house. I sink deeper, letting the water lap at my neck, my eyelids fluttering closed.
A door swings open onto a world drowned in black.
I step in.
“Hello?” I call out.
Darkness drenches the room, thick and cloying like tar. There’s a smell – metallic, potent, the unmistakable stench of blood. A pair of bodies dangle in the heart of the pitch black, like grotesque puppets in a morbid show. They sway lightly as though rocked by an undetectable, chilling breeze.
I’m drawn to them, step after quivering step. My legs are jelly under me, shaking like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Every instinct screams at me to stop. Turn around. Get the hell out of this butcher’s nightmare.
Damn it, my body won’t listen. It’s as though it’s been hijacked, steered by a puppeteer with a twisted sense of humor. I’m trapped in my own skin, a captive audience to the horror unfolding before me.
I stumble closer, my heart pounding a brutal rhythm against my ribs. Each beat sounds in my ears like a death knell, drowning out the desperate pleas echoing in my mind.
Stop! my mind screeches, but my treacherous legs only pick up the pace. Each step brings the bodies into focus, and the sight is like a jagged blade plunging into my chest. The tousled curls, the sprawled limbs – it’s them.
Wren and my brother.
“Oh, God,” I whimper, the words barely more than a puff of air. Their faces are beaten, bloody, a canvas of pain that my mind recoils from. Wren’s eyes are closed, thank God, but my brother’s stare blankly at the ceiling. My blood runs cold. I want to scream, to claw at my eyes, to do anything but look. But I’m frozen, shackled in place by a terror that steals my breath and pins me to the spot.
Then, impossibly, Wren’s eyes flicker open. They’re glassy, filled with a pain that makes my heart squeeze painfully. Blood trickles from her eyes, streams from her nose in a horrifying river of red. Her lips part, and a single word wheezes out. “Help.”
A shock of cold rushes through me, numbing me from the inside out. I beg my eyes to close, to shut out the grotesque spectacle in front of me. But they remain wide open, forcing me to witness the macabre tableau. The room spins, my stomach lurches, and just when I think it can’t get any worse, my lungs seize, strangled of air. I gasp, choking on the darkness that’s coiling around my throat. A pressure is building in my chest, clawing its way up, a dire need to breathe, but the air won’t come. My vision blurs around the edges, the horrific scene starting to waver like a nightmare mirage.
Just as the darkness threatens to claim me, my eyes flash open. My surroundings change drastically, the gruesome sight of the bloodied bodies replaced with cerulean blue. Bubbles rise around me, and I realize, with a jolt of panic, I’m underwater.
The bath.
Fuck!
I’m in the bath, sinking under the surface, drowning in my own fears. Panic seizes me, shattering the paralysis that held me moments ago. My limbs jerk into action, hands clawing at the water, legs kicking, body convulsing in a desperate attempt to surface. But the slick ceramic sides of the tub offer no grip. My fingers slide off, plunging me deeper into the water as my brain fights the grip of the nightmare that’s left me reeling, confused.
Please! Someone help me!
My lungs are on fire now, screaming for air. I open my mouth in a silent scream, only for the water to rush in, filling my mouth, my throat. The world dims at the edges, panic gripping me in a vise. I’m going to drown. In a bathtub, of all places. It’s a horrifyingly ludicrous thought.
Just as I’m about to succumb to the inevitable, a pair of hands reach into the water, strong and steady. They scoop me up, dragging me up and out, hauling me against a hard chest. I gasp, lungs heaving as I suck in a greedy breath, coughing and spluttering as the world slowly comes back into focus.
“Take it easy,” I hear a deep voice.
