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Her eyes clear and they focus on mine, fear and horror glistening as tears trail down her temple. "Help. Me," she gasps.
"Help you with what?" I growl.
"It's so painful. It's so fucking painful," she sobs.
"Where?" I seethe.
"Everywhere!" she screams, her back arching off the bed. She contorts, and it looks so fucking disturbing. Her eyes roll in the back of her head and her neck stretches back, her pale, clammy skin growing taut with tension.
I whip her onto her stomach, yanking her shirt up to her neck. My eyes widen as I see three long, bloody scrapes extending from her shoulder down to her opposite hip. They're deep, wide, and jagged as hell. The ones from The Room of Atonement have only started to heal. These, though, these are much worse. Much deeper. Angrier. The first set felt like a warning.
These look like a threat. An omen of what’s to come.
It looks awful. I run my finger along the edge of one of the scrapes, and Vera screeches and bends away from me, like I'm the cause of her pain.
"What the fuck happened?" I bark at her.
"I don't know. I woke up, and my cup flew across the room!"
"Flew across the room?" I narrow my eyes.
Her bed starts vibrating below me, and it feels like an earthquake is about to strike, even though we don't have them in Castle Pointe.
The foot of the bed lifts in the air before slamming to the ground, and the head of the bed lifts before it drops. It continues this game, this rodeo of movement that rocks the bed back and forth.
Holy fucking shit.
"Vera!" I slam her against the bed. "What the hell did you do?"
She starts crying hysterically. "I didn't do anything!"
The bed scrapes across the floor, moving to the middle of the room. I whip Vera off the bed, pinning her against the wall to protect her from whatever shit is toying with us.
The bed stops the moment I have her against the wall. Sitting in the middle of the room, I stare at it for a moment, the entire situation almost impossible to believe.
My heart feels like it's about to pound out of my chest, and I lean up against her, pressing my forehead against the wall. "What shit did you do, Vera?"
"Me?" she snaps. "Me?" She shoves my naked chest, but I barely move. I keep myself pinned against her, and I can feel her vibrating, seething into me. "You shoved me in that cemetery and left me to rot. Whatever was in that… fucking tomb… was death. All I could see, and feel, and hear, was death. It surrounded me and filled me up. All I can fucking think about for the last week is the fucking hell you put me through! The Ouija board shit I did with Blaire wasn't nearly—not even a fucking inch—as terrifying as that cemetery. The cemeteryyoulocked me in! So, fuck you, Malik. Fuck everything about you!"
My breathing stops, and I step away from her, just a beat, and glare down at her. "You played with a fucking Ouija board?" My voice is solemn, a deadly whisper that hints of the grave mistake she made.
Utter stupidity.
Her eyes shift to the window. "It has fucking nothing to do with that.Thisis all your fault. Shit wasn't happening until the cemetery."
I grind my teeth, and the pressure zings a painful headache to the front of my skull. "You're a fucking idiot." I step back, running my hand through my hair as I try and come up with a solution to why she would be so fucking thoughtless. "You played with a Ouija board? In Castle Pointe? Where the dead never sleep? You do realize the shit you did, right?"
Her neck burns red, lighting up the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes glow with emotion and burn me, as if they could light me on fire.
"I don't fucking know anything about this damn town. All everyone keeps saying isthe dead. The dead. The dead are here. No one says shit. This place should come with a warning label. Or a fucking manual for all I care. I mean seriously,fuck off!" She shoves off the wall and goes to the foot of her bed. She attempts to push it back against the wall, but it barely moves. "Get out of here, Malik. Just go. Fuck off with your girlfriend and forget I existed. It's all you've done for the past week, anyway." She winces as the skin on her back moves, and I can’t imagine how excruciating it must be for her.
I laugh, the jealousy and frustration in her voice not going unnoticed. So, she's hurt by me keeping my distance. Good. What did she expect, that I'd coddle her? That we'd talk it out after that night?
She's found the wrong guy.
I walk up to her, curling my fingers around the back of her neck. Her body shudders, hate and need making her press into me and pull away at the same time. "I hate you so fucking much. My bed just moved across the room on its own. You saw the shit it just did. Don’t even try to fuck with me right now." She attempts to push her bed back to where it's supposed to be, but it's too heavy, and it doesn’t even budge. "Get the fuck out of here or help me, would you?"
I sneer at her, pushing her out of the way and moving the bed back to where it’s supposed to be before standing up straight to look at her. "You want to know what I think?" She scowls, crossing her arms across her chest. Her tits push up in her tiny wifebeater tank top, the lack of bra making her rosy nipples shove into the fabric. "I think you're a little bitch who needs to be put in her place."
