Page 91 of Conjure

She shuts the door on her way out, and I try to calm my heartbeat. Everything looks scarier in the dark. The lone lamp in the corner of the room isn’t enough to chase away the shadows or the sensation of something lurking. I tell myself that it’s all in my head, but as the drugs take effect, I become more fearful, and the room spins as the shadows grow taller, crawling across the walls. I struggle to keep my eyes open as my vision darkens at the corners.

I don’t want to sleep in case it comes to finish what it started.

Pain radiates through my severed wrist despite the strong pain medication. I grit my teeth and wince as I try to sit up in bed. I’m too weak, my fingers tingling with phantom sensations.

My hand is gone, but it still feels like it’s there. Now, a different kind of pain presses on my sternum, like a weightI’m unable to shift. I can’t look at my bandaged arm without remembering that…thinginside me that enjoyed my terror.

It savored my friends’ fear even more.

There was nowhere to hide.

The moment it entered my body, it saw everything—it knew everything: every thought I’d ever had, my fears, and the things I’m ashamed of, as well as every lie I’ve ever told.

My dreams are troubled. I drift in and out of consciousness, moving from one nightmare to the next.

Awaking with a start, I push up on my elbows, a layer of cold sweat clinging to my clammy skin. I become aware of movement to my left and slowly turn my head to the window, afraid of what I’ll see.

The curtains dance in front of the windows, opening like a gaping void to hell. I can feel my chin wobble the longer I stare.

Another gentle breeze drifts through the room.

This is it.

There’s no escape.

It has come for me and my soul. It wants my secrets. My memories of her.

“Your heart rate is picking up,” a voice says to my right, and I whip my head around.

Doctor Walsh, the surgeon who performed the amputation, steps out from the shadowed corner. His eyes are as dark as the night outside, his movements measured, and his smile cruel and vicious.

A cold sensation slithers down my back, and I shift my hand closer to the panic button, hoping he won’t notice. It’s stupidity. Something so ancient can read me like a book. The monster residing inside my surgeon predates humanity. He’s timeless, having roamed this plane for centuries.

He approaches the bed, sniffing the air, his eyes rolling back before he trains them on me again. The heart monitor speeds up, but all I can focus on is him as he tilts his head to the side.

He studies me.

My fingers brush up against the panic button, and I snatch it up, trembling with dread. Even my teeth chatter. There’s no Heaven after this, not if I die at his hands. Thatthingwill feed on my soul until there’s nothing left.

He drops his eyes to the panic button in my hand, and the left side of his mouth quirks. I hold my breath, sweat beading on my forehead and trailing down the side of my face.

“You’re so scared,” he drawls, amused. “I can feel it pulse in the air.”

“Get away from me!”

His smile slips as he glides his fingers over my legs through the quilt. I try to kick at him, but he grips me hard, bruising my tender skin.

He tuts. “Such a naughty girl.”

When he rounds the bed, I glance down at the syringe in his hand. “What the fuck is that?” I scramble back, ripping the cannula from my hand and removing the wires attaching me to the heart rate monitor, causing it to flatline as I dash off the bed.

He’s faster, pulling me back by my hair. My mangled wrist knocks against the bedframe, sending a jolt of pain through me, and I cry out as he hauls me back onto the bed.

“Please, no,” I sob, trying to fight him off, but he overpowers me. I scream at the top of my lungs, his fingers brushing through my tears as he straddles me on the bed. “No one can hear you, little human. It’s just you and me.” He digs his fingers into my chin and shushes me. My heart threatens to break out from my heaving chest as I kick out at the sheets, bucking my hips. Nothing works.

He traces my trembling lips with his fingers and studies my face, touching me almost tenderly. “Human fear is delectable.”

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I whimper, my chin wobbling. “I don’t want to die.”