Sulfur and ash prick my nose as he leans in to whisper in my ear, “His obsession with you is delicious. I can almost taste the jealousy on my tongue.” He begins to chuckle, the eerie sound growing in volume until it seems to echo all around me. But then he grows still—so still that fear sinks its claws deep into my heart.
“Psalm 106:37,” he drawls, twisting his meaty fingers in my hair. “They sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons.”
I grow icy cold, but before I can ask him why he recited that Bible verse, the same one on the back of the photograph, he breathes me in and drags his nose over the curve of my neck. A second or two passes where I stare at the flickering light overhead while my heart flutters wildly. His nose lowers again,breathing me in obscenely loud. Grabbing my jaw, he bares his teeth and snaps them inches from my face before descending into crazed laughter. He leans in to sniff me again, then snarls like a creature straight out of a horror movie.
His breath is wet against my ear. “You’re succulent.”
The initial panic morphs into something else, something provoked, like I’m an animal locked in a cage too small. I try to shove him off, and when that doesn’t work, I knee him in the balls.
Bent at the waist, his eyes swim with black as he spits in a foreign language—an ancient and shiver-inducing language.
My arm itches.
Fuck, how it itches.
Flies crawl and buzz over my skin.
I tear at it with my dirty nails, scratching and clawing.
Noticing, he cocks his head. Then, faster than I can react, his mouth gapes wide, and he attacks.
“Hey, hey, Camryn?” Gwen taps my cheek a little too hard to be considered gentle. “Earth to Camryn?”
Dazed, I blink.
“There you are. What happened just now?”
Mr. Jones looks uncomfortable as he puts his hand on my shoulder, causing me to jerk away. “I think she needs to see a nurse,” he says.
I’m at a loss and struggling to make sense of the situation. When I look at Gwen, she explains, “You freaked out on Mr. Jones when he came to speak to you.”
I glance around the once again crowded hallway before slumping back against the wall. My eyes sting, but not from tears.
Exhaustion.
What’s happening to me?
“Did I…” I swallow, unable to look anyone in the eye. “Did I hurt you, Mr. Jones?”
“Hurt me? God, no. You were mumbling words under your breath that I couldn’t make out. I’m impressed by your foreign language skills, Miss. Barker.”
I frown. “I don’t know any other languages.”
I can tell he doesn’t believe me and that my distress makes him uncomfortable. He turns to Gwen, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. “Take her to the nurse. It’s probably a heatstroke.”
“I will.” She puts her arm around my waist and leads me through the crowded hallways. “You’re okay, Camryn. No one is looking.”
I know they are. Rumors spread like wildfire in a small town like this, jumping from tongue to lip, reshaping and transforming by the second until the truth is buried beneath the rubble of white lies. I’m the new girl who threw a match to a field of dry wheat with my freak-out.
What’s happening to me?
I keep my gaze on the floor until we enter a small room with a cot. Gwen sits me down, swipes my hair off my damp forehead, and flicks her eyes between mine. “It’s the heat. It gets to the best of us. It’s about time they get the AC fixed.”
Swiping unbidden tears from my eyes, I smile weakly, grateful to have been offered this one simple excuse. It doesn’t feel like a heatstroke, but she’s right—it doesn’t get this warm in the city.
The door creaks open, and a woman pops in with a wide smile and a fresh bottle of ice-cold water dripping with condensation. I gulp it down before handing the empty bottle back.
“My, my, you were thirsty,” she says, touching my clammy forehead. “You’ll be alright, sweetheart. Let’s rest for a bit, alright.”
