Page 3

He closed the door behind me with a heavy thud. I flinched. My grip on my flashlight tightened even though it was off, like it might still protect me.

“I have a can of gas in the garage,” he said. “In the morning, I can take you to fill up your car. Roads are too dark right now.”

“Thank you. Seriously,” I managed. My voice was small. The words felt like dried leaves crumbling in my mouth.

We stood in the entryway, light pooling at our feet and the rest of the house eaten by darkness. He didn’t offer me a chair. Just studied me, as if memorizing my face.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I hesitated before telling him my name. Should I? Was he safe? Would he hurt me? Stop it, you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, just be polite and do what he wants. That’s how you survive. “Starla.”

He nodded. “I’m Malakar. You’re safe here,” he said. “You can sleep on the couch. I’ll get some blankets.”

His voice was calm, but something about it splintered under my skin. I told myself I was being paranoid, projecting monsters onto strangers. Not everyone’s like Brandon. Not everyone wanted to hurt you.

Malakar moved down the hall, disappearing into the black. The house seemed to exhale when he left. I was alone in the silence.

I sat on the edge of the couch, hugging my arms close, listening to the hum of electricity in the walls. I tried to steady my breathing, keep my thoughts from splitting at the seams.

His footsteps came from behind. Before I could turn, something crashed into the back of my head. Pain exploded behind my eyes. The world tilted, vision swimming with black dots. I stumbled to my knees, the carpet burning my skin. I tried to scream, but only a choked gasp came out.

Malakar’s face came into focus. All the warmth was gone—his eyes were dead, wide and empty. He was coming for me, like a shadow made of flesh.

“No, please—” My voice barely broke the stillness.

He grabbed me by the arm, fingers digging into my flesh. I fought, I kicked, but he was too strong. He threw me down, my head cracking against the floor. My vision flickered in and out, the room spinning.

The last thing I saw was his hand raised, something glinting in it, and the cold, endless dark in his eyes. I thought I was running from monsters. I didn’t realize I was about to succumb to another one.

Chapter 2

Caught In The Dark

Starla

When I was a little girl, my mother told me that monster’s didn’t exist. She would check in my closet and underneath my bed. Once she was done, she’d pat my head and smile at me. There are no monsters here, Starla, you’re safe.

Safety was an illusion. She promised me that monsters didn’t exist, while my father was chopping up bodies after we went to sleep.

I was blind to my father’s horrors for a long time. Until one night, I wasn’t. I couldn’t take it, so days later, I turned him in. Everything fell down after that. I could still remember their screams in the night. It would go on and on until suddenly, there was silence. When the screaming stopped, that’s when I knew he killed them.

Silly girl, you really thought you could escape the dark? It lives inside of you.

Monsters are everywhere, and there was no escape from that dark.

Looking around, the room appeared to be a dungeon. Brick walls painted black, hardwood floor, only one window in the far corner. There was barely any light, only a small bulb on the ceiling.

A chain was around both of my ankles. My eyes followed the chain, it ended at the wall.

The chain was thick, the metal stained with rust and things I tried not to name. Someone took care to bolt it deep into the brick.

There was a bed. Old mattress. Faint stains, yellow-brown circles flaring out beneath the sheet. I remembered beds like that from group homes. Nobody cared if you bled or pissed yourself at night. You cleaned it yourself or sat in the stench.

There was a bucket. Flies clustered on the rim.

I stared at the black walls. I kept seeing shapes in the brick, bones and faces, jaws yawning open in agony. My body shuddered. The chain rattled with every tiny movement.

I tried to focus. I tried to stay here, in my body. I could feel that old panicked skitter at the edge of my mind, whispering: leave, leave, leave. Dissociate. But I can’t. Not this time.