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He stares at me.
“Good point,” he concedes. “If I need to fight a ghost, I will. Just lay back down for now.”
His fists will do precisely zero damage, but since it’s a noble thought, I shut my trap and trudge back toward the couch. Enzo digs out some nails from Sylvester’s little toolbox he keeps in a closet in the kitchen, then gets to work.
With each two-by-four nailed across the doors and windows, I feel more and more claustrophobic.
This lighthouse is supposed to be safe compared to the cave. Yet, my life feels more in danger than when I was lost at sea.
There’s a shark in the water, and just like being in the ocean, we’re inhisterritory.
Chapter 28
Sawyer
There’s a shark latched onto my leg, and I think I’m screaming helplessly when something smacks into the side of my head. In my dream, it’s a tennis racket. It’s confusing enough to distract me from the beast gnawing on my leg, but the tennis racket is slapping into my cheek again.
Hard enough for the terrifying situation to swirl away and plunge me back into reality.
Something is leaning over me, breathing heavily, and in my discombobulated state, my fists immediately go flying.
“It’s me,” Enzo hisses, grabbing my wrists before they can connect.
Instantly, I’m overcome with dizzying relief and a touch of disappointment. I’m glad there isn’t a shark using my leg for a chew toy, and the person above me isn’t Sylvester or a pissed-off spirit. But I’m a little sad I didn’t get to hit Enzo. That would’ve felt nice.
Just as I open my mouth to apologize, I realize that my dream wasn’t the only thing keeping Enzo awake.
The angry knocking is back. And this time, it’s on our fucking bedroom door.
It has one two-by-four barred across it, a nail on each end. Enzo left one hammered halfway in so he can easily pry it out and allow us to come and go from the room. But right now, those nails feel as effective as if the wood is being held up by bubble gum.
I freeze, the terror from my nightmare flooding back tenfold. Before, it was only an annoying wave that kept slapping into your face every time you caught a breath. Now, it’s a fierce riptide of fear dragging me under and drowning me within it.
“What is that?” I whisper, the words hardly rising above the loud banging.
As if hearing my question, it pauses.
Enzo’s tight grip on my arms only confirms that he’s still here. Otherwise, his silence would have convinced me that I was alone.
Suddenly, there’s another thunderous bang against the door. This time, it sounds like someone either kicked it or rammed their shoulder into it.
Just like earlier when it was pounding on the ceiling, a scream breaks free from my throat. I slap my hand over my mouth, trembling violently as the thing rams into the door again.
“I’m going to open the door,” Enzo says quietly.
“No!” I gasp, my hands flying to the collar of his t-shirt. Except he’s shirtless, and I only end up digging my nails into his skin.
“We can’t just let it keep doing this,” he argues through clenched teeth, grabbing my wrists and clutching them tightly.
“What if it’s Sylvester?” I reason.
“He’d be shouting or shooting off the gun, and you know it.”
“So, then what the hell are you going to do?” I whisper-shout. “Open the door and tell it to quiet down or you’ll give it a spanking?”
“I’m going to giveyoua spanking if you keep it up,” he snaps.
“You’re going to invite it in,” I say, ignoring his threat and attempting a different angle. “It wants in, and you’re going to just… give it permission.”
