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They know who I am, and they think my light is disturbing. But it is good, or I thought it was supposed to be.
Breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe. They might know why you do weird things. They might be able to help.
“What disturbing things?” I asked.
“Did you know that hundreds of males have gone missing over the past three years in the very county you live in?” His voice boomed over the table, pinning me back into my chair.
Hundreds. No! According to the news, it was dozens.
Had every dream been an attack? Someone I didn’t save? Like Logan.
Did they think I was doing it on purpose?
They think I’m killing these men, and I can’t even explain how I'm connected to the creature.
“I only knew a few went missing. From the news reports,” I said.
“You see, not all of these men were reported missing. Most were soldiers, no family, no next of kin. They went unreported because it was more important for people to think they were alive,” he said.
“What?”
They hid the murders? They hid the missing men?
“You see, some secrets are kept to protect people. Some secrets are kept because the truth is so horrific, it would make your skin crawl—so hopeless, you’d rather not know it existed.” He twisted his lips into a subtle frown. “Tell me, Charlotte, are you afraid, yet?”
“I’m not afraid of a small man and his small mind. I don’t fear you or your men.”
Where the hell did that come from? Since when do I talk back?
He didn’t feel like someone I could trust. He felt threatening. I couldn’t share the truth about the light inside me with him. He wouldn’t understand. Hell, I didn’t really understand it. So I bit back to protect whatever was inside me.
The man shook his head back and forth. “You should be afraid. We are not small. We are everywhere. In fact, we’ve been watching you for a little while now.”
He paced two steps closer to the table. “Lately, you seem to find yourself in the middle of some interesting situations. I think life doesn’t have many coincidences, so when you are exactly where these men have gone missing three times in a row, I know you have something to do with it.”
He propped his hands on the table, coming close enough to smell his nicotine gum. “When I asked who you are, what I meant was, what are you?”
