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I swallow at the deep, familiar voice and clasp my hands together to prevent them from shaking.
“H-how do you know my name?”
He tilts his head to the side but doesn’t answer.
Ugh. I hate the stutter on top of my slur. I’m coming off as an easy victim. Who the hell would ask such a question under these circumstances? My top priority is to run. Every cell in my being screams at me to turn and leave.
Peeking sideways, I seek the easiest way out. The situation doesn’t play in my favour. For one, my intoxicated brain is so slow at deciphering information. For two, the choice of the back entrance was a lousy one.
The stranger approaches silen
t and slow. Firm with intent. Like a painter would chase their muse.
“No, no, no...” I move two wobbly steps back. I’m not moving fast enough, and the stranger will be on me any second.
“Help–” I attempt to scream, but my heel catches a crack in the pavement. I fall so fast, so hard. My head bumps onto a sharp edge.
Cheek resting against the cold ground, my eyes prickle with tears as intense pain assaults my head. My skull seems to have been cracked into two separate entities. My lungs no longer receive air as my vision doubles then triples.
In my peripheral vision, the stranger’s blurred face smirks.
I was scared the first time I met him. Now, I’m terrified.
Darkness sucks me in its clutches.
Chapter Five
Aaron
Twenty-two years ago,
Faint moaning reaches my ears in a persistent chant.
I roll to my back, cover my head with the pillow, and count to one hundred. Aloud. Urging the sound to go away. The darkness, looming in every corner of my room, makes it eminent.
The moaning turns to long relentless mewling. I huff and kick the covers away. Can’t I sleep like everyone else?
My feet carry me through the dimly lit corridors. The dark red walls cast shadows in my wake. The black shades seem to follow me towards the intensifying mewling. My steps falter when the source turns out to be in my father’s office. Out of the Eastern Wing’s countless rooms, this office and my parents’ bedroom are off limits.
A woman’s muffled scream shatters my indecisiveness. I slowly push the door into a crack.
Blood. Lots of blood.
A woman, naked and chained to a chair, whimpers like my cousin Thia when she’s scared. Father, fully dressed, hovers over her, doing something I can’t see. It involves making her blood drip on the beige carpet.
“I thought you still wanted me, Victoria.” Father’s stern voice wafts across the room. “Are you having second thoughts? Do you want me to stop?”
Victoria? She can’t be Uncle Hugh’s wife, right?
I crane my head to take a better look. It is Aunt Victoria, Father’s best friend wife.
Father only brought unknown women before. What is Aunt Victoria doing here?
She shakes her head, eyes frantic and wide.
Father broadens his stance and twirls the knife between his relaxed fingers. His shoulders push forward, blocking my vision. “I thought so.”
She screams, her skin glistening with sweat and blood. The red spreads from the carpet to the hard wood floor with compelling grace. Too red. Too bright. Too... real.
