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“What the fuck are you doing?” she screams as I crush it underfoot, shattering the screen and the insides into a million pieces.
If there’s one thing I do know, I don’t need anyone tracking us where we are going.
“I’m really sorry about this, Emma.”
That’s probably the most truthful thing I’ve ever said to her. Only she probably thinks it’s for what I’ve done up until this point, not for what I’m about to do.
I reach in, looking like I’m about to unclip her seat belt, but instead, I grab the special pressure point on her neck which I know will only have one outcome.
“Fu…” Emma starts, but she doesn’t even manage to get her words out. The pressure point starts taking effect and her eyes flutter closed.
Once I see her body slump forwards and I know for sure that she’s passed out, I finally let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I step back and try to gather myself back up once more.
This is fucked up. Seriously fucked up.
I don’t even have time to digest this and to sort myself out. I still need to get the fuck out of here—only now I can do it without Emma’s demanding questions that I just can’t answer.
Now we can just move.
THREE
EMMA
No.
Something is happening.
It’s like there’s a black cloud hanging over my head, about to explode with rain at any given moment.
No, no, no.
Whatever it is, whatever this nasty shadow is, it’s coming for me. There isn’t a damn thing that I can do to keep myself safe.
It’s like there’s a snake creeping up my spine, chilling me to the bone. I have never experienced a fear quite like this before.
It’s horrible.
It doesn’t help that there’s a builder’s site in my head. My skull is absolutely pounding with pain, like someone is drilling in there.
It wouldreallyhelp if that could stop.
I blink a few times, letting a searing bright light slide into me. God damn it, what the hell is going on? Why do I feel like this is the worst hangover I’ve ever experienced, but I don’t have any memory of a night out?
Actually… I don’t remember what happened, how I got here.
Even though it hurts to do so, I push myself up into a sitting position and I try to steady myself. But since I don’t know where the fuck I am, it isn’t easy.
What the hell?
Why would I be in this strange place? A place that has the feeling of a cabin in the woods? That isn’t the sort of place I’d go on vacation, so this is so weird…
Oh shit.
Flashbacks of the previous night hit me like snippets from a film reel. Wilson Anderson, the man who I thought was my friend, who I wanted to help me, with his gun. His gun in my face as he demanded I come with him. To keep me safe… to stop me from dying too, at least that’s what he pretended at the time. I don’t think that was true, though.
What the hell was that all about?
Who the hell is he?
