Page 25 of Fed By Fear

As I reach for the bedroom doorknob, I pause. My right hand is blue. Not like low-circulation blue. Closer to grey-blue. Dead blue. Sliding my sleeve higher reveals even more blue skin. What the hell? I need a better look.

I shove through the brightly colored room dividers and into my bathroom. Flipping the light on pulls a gasp from my already-panicky lungs. The blue is swirling up my neck now. Raising my sweater reveals blue patches across my chest too.

The handprint that ghost left behind is long gone. What did she do to me? She’s dead. They shouldn’t be able to affect the living. I’ve never seen anything like this.

I need to get to a hospital.

Fighting the now-tangled room dividers, I bolt back to the bedroom door.

The knob is so cold it sends pain radiating up my elbow. I haven’t even gotten it unlocked when the sound of a chainsaw sends me stumbling backwards. It’s loud. So loud. Hunt must be right outside.

My calf still burns where he sliced it. Would he do worse if given the chance?

I’m forced to make an undesirable choice.

The monster in my closet, or the maniac at my door? Neither is appealing.

Awareness prickles at my neck, drawing my gaze to the floor. Even less appealing are the eyes watching me from under the bed. My muscles lock up.

How long have those been there?

My neck practically creaks as I turn it, slow enough not to grab the attention of whatever is watching me. The gap beneath my bed is unnaturally dark. Two red eyes pierce the shadows.

It’s an illusion. It has to be. A monster under the bed is an irrational fear. No one’s actually heard of a real monster under a bed.

The eyes blink.Definitely real. I take several steps back. The eyes follow, sliding beneath the bed from one end to the other.

Fuck there reallyissomething under there.

Where do I go? What the hell am I supposed to do?

The tip of the chainsaw bursts through the bedroom door.

Wood splinters, pelting me in the face. I shuffle away, panic pulling a guttural sound from my throat. The sound morphs into a scream when something grabs my ankle. The darkness from under the bed is wrapped around me, and now, it has teeth.

“Githany,” Hunt snarls from the doorway. He carves a path straight down the middle and into the carpet.

Wrenching my ankle loose from the dark thing sends me tumbling to the ground. I’ve got to hide.

The closet it is.

Flinging the closet door wide, I expect to see some type of monster milling amongst my old clothes and shelves of childhood mementos. My hands are raised and ready to confront whatever has been scratching at the inside. Only…

This is not my closet.

The door slams behind me, the knob striking me in the left hip. The sound of Hunt’s chainsaw hacking into my bedroom has been snuffed out by carnival music.

I’m back in the clown room.

Neon lights, circus tunes. This is Madness’s room. Which means he’s in here somewhere.

The chainsaw bursts through the closet door, barely missing my left ear. My plan to sneak quietly through the room is ruined by the sound of my own scream.

I’m launched into action.

Splitting my gaze between the closet and the space before me, I hurry deeper into the clown room.

There aren’t any decoy mannequins this time. My gaze sweeps from one end to the other. The room is at least three times larger than before but the layout is similar. I take off, tracking the path I took when we crossed through the clown room earlier this evening.