Chapter Eighteen: The Dream
Tangled hair threads between his hands. Her rattling breath vibrates his eardrums.
Keep fighting me, he begs her. He's never begged. Ever. But, he'll do it for her. Excitement sets his veins afire. Silently, he produces the butcher knife from his belt. With her face a hair's breadth from the blade, she whimpers and it travels down his spine as a shiver.
Kill her, killer, kill her, killer.
The chant echoes in his brain, voices seduce him with their persistent murmurings. Never quiet.
Shut up.
KILLER, KILL HER—
His hand came to an abrupt stop as she utters a small cry.
"You can't."
The muscles in his jaw tense.
Where has he heard that before?
XXX
As he emerged from the shallows of darkness, the size of a fingertip pricked into his wounds, picking through torn nerves. The tinkling of metal being dropped into a can was the sound of the last bullet leaving his body.
Light fell upon his eyelids. A thumb gently held open one. His pupil contracted to a pinprick. He could see nothing beyond the beam of white penetrating his retina.
Then, the thumb left his face and his eyelid fell closed.
Dark descended in his mind again as a conversation occurred from miles away.
"You said your sister did this? Well?"
"It...It was an accident. Please, she didn't know any better. Don't make this any harder on her than it already—"
"Stop your groveling. It's disgusting."
"I…I'm sorry."
"Take Miriam and leave us."
Footsteps skittered away.
"Oh, Michael…"
Beyond the walls, Michael thought he heard the ragged end of a voice ruined by screaming. It reminded him of all the times he was confined to that bleak hospital wing as a child, listening to terror not orchestrated by his own hands.
"She'll pay for this."
AN: I thank one of the reviewers who recognized one of my plot devices; since I'm on vacation I'll make well to update more often during the duration of my grace period. Also, this is a filler chapter