Sadie moves forward first, and I hear a cackle from inside. The sound triggers something deep inside me, a warning.
Something’s wrong.
Don’t go in. Don’t go in.
I run for her with my hand extended, reaching to grab her and pull her back, but the house starts to fade away—everything does—and bleeds red.
Bleeds red.
Don’t go in there.
Blood.
Don’t go.
Blood everywhere.
Close your mind. Trust me, you don’t want to see what’s about to happen...
My eyes shoot open as I gasp for air, but my lungs are constricting, and I can’t get any oxygen.
“Help,” I gasp, rolling to my side, clutching at my chest.
Dr. Gardingdale is above me, his eyes wide as he pats my back and tells me to, “Breathe. Just breathe. Air in. Air out. In. Out.”
He repeats the mantra until I calm down, and then he moves back and gives me room.
I sit in the chair with my feet planted on the floor and my head in my hands. “I was remembering the day my mother dropped us off at the house,” I finally say. “But the memory would only go up until the point where Sadie ran inside, and I went in after her. Then it shut down . . . All I could see was red.”
I hate that, no matter what, my mind refuses to let me see what happened in that house. All I know is a female there had bright red hair and disgustingly long nails. They also didn’t—don’t—like it when people leave their group, even those who didn’t enter of their own freewill.
He studies me closely as the music changes from the sound of ocean waves to the lull of a waterfall. “I think that’s going to be all for today.” He seems distracted as he stands up from his chair and walks over to his desk. “I’m starting to get concerned, though, that we might be putting too much pressure on your mind.” He collects a prescription pad from his drawer and a pen. “I’m going to write you a prescription just in case you have another panic attack like that.”
“I won’t take the pills.” My legs are wobbly, and my stomach is woozy as I push up from the chair and work to get my footing.
He leans over the desk, pressing the pen to the paper. “I’m not saying you have to take them, but you’ll have them on hand just in case.”
“She was buying drugs the day she dropped us off. She was high and needed her next fix, so she sold her kids out to a fucking bunch of evil people.” I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “So, trust me when I say I won’t take the pills.”
He sighs but drops the pen and turns to face me. “Well, just know that the option is there and that there’s no shame if you decide to take them.”
“Okay.” I nod then start for the door.
He scoops up his office keys from the desk. “Let me walk you to your car.”
Ever since the incident in the parking lot where a chunk of my hair was stolen, he has been walking me to my car. He always locks his office up first, even though he goes back inside afterward.
After he locks up, we exit the building and cross the parking lot toward my car parked out near the back row, even though the entire area is vacant.
“It was more crowded when I came here,” I explain, glancing up at the sky now painted with stars.
“You’re usually my last client of the day,” he replies, reading a message on his phone.
When we near the car, I fish the keys from my pocket and push the key fob. The headlights flash across the dark parking lot as the doors unlock.
“I’ll see you next Tuesday,” I say, pulling the driver’s side door open.
He nods absentmindedly as he turns back toward the office building. “Take care, Ayden. And, if you need anything at all, call me.”
“I will.” I lower my head to climb in but pause when I spot a blank piece of paper on the dashboard. I pick it up and flip it over. Invisible fingers wrap around my neck, and suddenly, I can’t breathe again.
Those that step in, never get out. We’re going to torture you until you break. Just like we did to your sister.
I drop the note to the ground and scramble back, scanning the parking lot. Even though the note wasn’t signed, I know who left it. The Soulless Mileas, a group of people who held my siblings and me captive in that house I saw in the memory just minutes ago.
“Wait, something’s wrong,” I call out to Dr. Gardingdale. “There’s a note.”
He reels around, nearly dropping his phone. “Where?”
I point to the ground at the piece of paper, my eyes trained on the trees, the buildings, the bushes, every place someone could be hiding. “They must have put it in there while I was inside,” I say as he crouches down to examine it without picking it up. “I don’t know how, though. The car was locked.”
He straightens his legs and stands up then slowly circles the back end of the car. He walks around the front and down the side, inspecting every inch while dialing a number on his phone. He halts near the passenger side and moves closer, lifting his head to look on the roof. “Your sun roof’s open.” He glances at me from over the car. “Did you leave it open?”
“Maybe . . . I was honestly pretty distracted when I drove here.” Distracted by the heavy make out session I had with Lyric right before I drove here. My thoughts were lost in her and the way her lips felt against mine. How soft her skin was against my hand. The soft whimpers she kept making. “I’m sorry.”
/> “You don’t need to be sorry. None of what’s happening is your fault.” He puts the phone up to his ear and starts chatting with the police to report the incident.
It’s the second one he’s had to report in two months, and I’m starting to wonder exactly how many more incidents are in my future. If the note holds any truth to it, then probably a lot.