Page 28 of Don’t Watch Alone

Chapter twenty-four

Blaiz

Someone’s footsteps stalk me in the room, enjoying the fear churning my insides with a slow, patient pace.

“Blaiz…” Christian’s voice moves through the hall. “You can run, but you can’t leave. This mall’s a grave, and you’re the last little body waiting for a tag.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, smothering the whimper that is trying to escape.

Then—CLANG!

The sound booms behind me. A harsh scraping of metal against metal. Robert. The floor and my legs are vibrating as he hits the shelves with a crowbar.

“You hear that?” he shouts. “Every noise in this place points right to you.”

Fear pushes me ahead. My shoes slap against the tile, the echo chasing me as fast as the men behind it. Christian’s laughter spikes, shrill and giddy. He’s getting closer.

I shove through a service door into a dark space. The air here is thick with dust, tasting like old cardboard and rust. Boxed toys tower in uneven rows.

I duck behind a stack of crates, pressing my back to the cold, rough cardboard. My chest rises and falls. I try to hold my breath, but it trembles out of me in labored puffs.

The door creaks open.

Footsteps.

“Hide and seek,” Christian murmurs, a singsong taunt that crawls under my skin. “My favorite game.”

My gaze is caught by a fire extinguisher mounted to the wall, just past the next row of crates. I drop to my hands and knees, creeping toward it. The swishing of plastic, the moving of cardboard; each sound pierces the silence like a scream.

The footsteps stop.

The world goes still .

“Found you,” Robert growls from the other side of the crates.

My instincts naturally take control. I grab the extinguisher and swing with everything I have. It smashes into flesh and bone with a wet, shattering impact. A cry bursts out with pain and rage, but I don’t know which one it’s from.

I’m already running past the crates and out the opposite door. My shoes pound the tile of the second floor, the mall extending before me. As I run, dead storefronts reflect my image, a spirit running within her own horrific dream.

Robert’s shout vibrates the area behind me. Christian laughs like the mall is a living, hungry thing.

The nonfunctional escalator is up ahead. I throw myself onto the black steps, sliding and stumbling to the first floor. My legs scream, but I don’t slow down. I won’t stop until I crash through a clothing store, disappearing into its dark emptiness.

Footsteps get louder as they approach. They have more speed than I care to admit. I hide behind a line of mannequins, their glossy white faces showing no emotion. My sweat drips onto the tile as I crouch down, gripping the fire extinguisher like a lifeline.

The store goes quiet, except for the distant echo of the ventilation system.

Then Christian’s whisper, winding through the racks: “Last chance, Blaiz. Make this fun… or make it messy.”

My knuckles turn pale around the extinguisher. My heart tells me I won’t survive this.

But I’m through with being the prey.

When Robert’s shadow appears on the floor in front of me, I jump out from my hiding place behind the mannequins, letting out a scream that sounds unfamiliar.

He doubles over with a guttural sound as the extinguisher hits him in the ribs.

I don’t wait. I swing again, catching his shoulder this time, then turn, spraying the extinguisher blindly into the air.

A blast of white mist surges into the store. Christian yells, coughing and swearing as the dust blinds him. I dash through the mist, leaving Robert suffering on the floor, returning to the mall hallways.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I know that if I stop, I die.

I keep running until the white haze thins, and I stumble into the central courtyard. The fountain in front of me is bone-dry, its cracked tiles resembling missing teeth; moonlight streams through the skylight, covering the area in an icy, holy light—a cathedral for the deceased.

The silence is shattered by a damp, raspy cough.

I spin. Christian stumbles out of the mist, ash staining his shirt, still gripping his knife. The grin he had before is gone. His eyes are nothing but murder.

“You hit Rob,” he wheezes, dragging one leg. “You actually hit him. You’re dead for that.”

I grip the fire extinguisher firmly, my arms trembling from exhaustion and fear.

Then Robert comes into view, his face a mask of rage and blood, dragging the crowbar across the tile. The metallic scrape screeches through the open area, a sound like bone against bone .

“Nowhere left to run,” he growls. “Time to finish this.”

Something in me splits wide open. I’m done running. I’m done being their prey.

I charge.

Christian lunges first, knife flashing before me.

I swing the extinguisher like a bat. It slams into his forearm with a sickening crack.

He screams, the knife clattering to the floor.

I don’t stop. I swing again, smashing it across his face.

He falls against the fountain’s edge with blood coming out of his mouth.

Robert yells and swings the crowbar. Pain bursts in my shoulder, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I catch the crowbar mid-swing, rip it from his grip, and slam the extinguisher into his gut. He collapses, choking as blood spills onto the tile.

“Not… so fun… huh?” The words burst from my mouth.

Christian desperately claws at my ankle. I’m consumed with rage. I raise the crowbar and bring it down on his hand. He cries out and pulls away. This time my swing connects with his jaw. His head snaps sideways, and he goes limp.

Robert moves unsteadily toward me, hands halfway up, saying what sounds like a cry for help. I don’t let him finish. I put every last bit of rage, terror, and grief into swinging the crowbar. The impact cracks through the empty mall. He drops. Doesn’t move.

Silence.

The sound of my labored breath mixes with the low murmur in the lobby. My arms shake. The crowbar slips from my grip, slick with sweat and blood.

The fountain, the tiles, their contorted forms—everything painted in silver and red moonlight. I don’t feel like I’ve won. I feel like I’ve been gutted, as if a crucial part of me has been torn away.

Far off, sirens blare through the night. For the first time tonight, my legs give way. I collapse onto the cold tile, shaking, but alive.