Page 4

C hapter 4

Naya

Staring out of the rain-spattered window, my reflection is distorted by rivulets streaming down the glass. I trail their path with my eyes, listening to the rhythmic tap, tap, tap as raindrops hit the panes.

Something is wrong. I can feel it in how my body tenses, heart racing faster. Yet, no one else notices anything. They’re both asleep.

Darkness from the outside seems to seep into the car, casting long shadows dancing with the glowing light from the dawn stretching across the horizon.

Every nerve-ending in my body is on edge, as if I’m prepared for something to emerge, though I do not know what.

Blinking away remnants of sleep, I orient myself in the cramped space of the backseat. My neck aches from the uncomfortable position I slept in, and my body is sore from the uneasy rest. Grey’s slumbering form is beside me, head leaned against the window, and his steady breathing matches the rhythm of the rain.

Yet that is not what made me wake up with the sense of something being strange— wrong.

I peer out the window, but nothing is there, and I look over to Daxton in the front. He’s sleeping soundly, eyes creased in worry, as if the world plagues him even in sleep.

None of us slept well last night, the heavy voice of the news channel filling the silent car with unwanted terror. Exhaustion weighs on me, my heart pounding within my ribcage at every crack from outside the car.

Another crack and creak, and my heart flies up to my throat. A sound that grates on my nerves, making me listen more closely, expecting something to pop up out of nowhere.

It’s just an animal.

It doesn’t feel like it. Instead, it feels like something far worse, something that will drag me down the pits of hell where I should have belonged long ago.

The creak increases, coming closer outside the vehicle parked in the middle of nowhere. It’s loud enough that it’s audible even from within the car, yet Daxton and Grey don’t arise.

Their light snores hang heavy in the cramped space, a steady rhythm that should calm me—they’re both okay and unharmed.

Another crackling sound pierces the atmosphere—a noise that makes my skin crawl from the dissonant note. My next breath is shaky as I focus on breathing properly, feeling as if a madman wants to rip out my vocal cords.

Curiosity gets the better of me as I lean on my elbows, pressing my face against the pane to observe the surroundings.

A web of dread weaves within me as the branches seemingly reach out to me. Shadows in the haunted night, wanting to scare me into a frenzy.

I swallow what feels like liquid fire sliding down my throat, awaiting the moment true terror will strike with a bead of sweat on my spine and a prickling sensation coiling deep within.

Panic wells up, despite trying to tell myself no one is there.

If no one is, why do I still hear the sounds of branches creaking in the distance, and soft footfalls stepping on gravel, leaving them crunching in the aftermath?

A glance to my side reveals Grey is still asleep, and even when both he and Daxton are here with me, I’ve never felt more alone.

As if the creaking wasn’t there to begin with, it silences, but I still dare not breathe. My chest constricts, begging for oxygen, but I cannot make a single sound.

My ears are sharpened, listening intently. Clenching my fists around the blanket surrounding me and Grey in its warmth, I wait for it to begin again.

Like a haunted melody weaving its spell around the forest, the crackling sounds grow nearer, making me lose my breath as I’m thrown back to the day all those months ago. The time Arthur had me run for my life, all in the hope of reaching Grey before he suffocated to death by being buried alive. Arthur played with me like all those dolls he had toyed with around the house.

There. Is. No. One. There.

Convincing myself of that is difficult, especially when a silhouette emerges from the inner depths of the forest. The madman is no longer inside my soul; instead, it has transformed into something far more lethal that threatens to damage one’s organs with one single breath.

One step. Two steps. Three steps, it takes forward, before I see the familiar stance sauntering forward through the shadows. Although I can’t see his face, I swallow harshly as I take in the sight of the black suit clinging to his body like a second skin. Each deliberate step he takes brings back memories of when he warned me about trying to find Rebecca at Dankworth Institute.

Oh God, Rebecca—

”You’re only imagining things, Naya,” I whisper to myself, yet my hands clasp around the blanket tighter, as if that could offer safety from the true monster lurking outside.

The silhouette steps closer, tall and slim like the legend of Slenderman. The shadows dissolve into the gleaming silvery light of early morning as it draws closer, revealing the black-pepper-sprayed hair. I cannot move a single bone in my body, my stare locked on him, willing myself to move but it’s damn impossible.

Something heavy settles over me, making it feel as if the oxygen inside the car has been snuffed out. The creature comes closer, his mouth tipped up into a half-smile, half-frown.

It stops moving, merely standing there while staring into the car—at me.

I don’t dare close my eyes until the sun fully sets, Grey and Daxton awakening with the cluelessness of the creature outside.

Yet, there’s nothing out there any longer, and I can’t help but wonder whether it truly was Emilio Ricci outside.

Or, if I have descended into madness.

––––––––

”WHERE ARE WE GOING?” I ask. The heavy lump in my stomach feels like lead, weighing me down and pinning me to the seat.

None of them replies, their grim expressions focused on the road ahead.

Silence stretches long and taut, filling the space with an awkward tension.

The lead weighing me down twists inside me long after we start driving, weaving through narrow roads in search of a place to sleep.

Grey notices something is off—he keeps glancing at me, but he doesn’t pry, and I’m grateful for that. I can’t bring myself to tell either of them what happened during the night when they were asleep, because I’m not even sure I truly saw Emilio. It wouldn’t be the first time I hallucinated.

My throat is parched from the lack of water as I stare out the window, feeling like sandpaper—a painful effort to even swallow saliva.

Daxton drives through empty streets and abandoned houses, fingers drumming on the steering wheel while the radio plays a quiet song in the background—too soft for me to discern.

Curiosity and wonder wash over me as we drive, with no clue about our destination and neither of them offering any explanation. Their unease becomes increasingly evident with each passing mile. Why are they acting so strangely?

”This looks like a motel of some sort,” Grey murmurs, and a rundown building far away from the bustling small-town life emerges.

”If we weren’t running for our lives, I’d never have stopped here,” I say. ”It looks like that sort of place where you get murdered, and no one notices until weeks, even months, later.”

”It looks haunted,” Daxton remarks with a scoff.

”Sure does,” Grey chimes in, leaning back in the chair and observing the building.

Taking in the perimeters of the motel, I see its smaller cottages interconnected with each other, the main entrance off to the side.

An unpleasant shiver coils down my spine, and I inhale deeply, repressing the rising memories. The place is eerily similar to Grimhill Manor, with walls falling apart and a construction that seems to be at least hundreds of years old. The motel’s facade is a patchwork of decaying wood, the boards weathered and warped.

The more I look toward the motel, the harder it becomes to disentangle reality from memory. I let my gaze fall to the large, red letters spelling out the motel’s name, each one slightly askew like crooked teeth. The parking lot surrounding us is eerily vacant, its emptiness amplifying the sense of apprehension that tightens within me.

”I’ll be just a second,” Daxton says, grabs a cap that he pulls low over his face, and leaves without another word.

I watch his frame disappear into the distance, hands in pockets, looking around to make sure no one is nearby.

Being inside a black sedan is dangerous, but we have nowhere else to go.

Silence hangs heavy in the air, and I glance at Grey as he stares out where Daxton was before his figure disappeared into the motel. I know he dreads what’s coming—the moment Daxton will leave us.

Nothing lasts forever—I’m the embodiment of that truth.

My chest constricts with the gnawing anxiety, and I absentmindedly scratch at my arm—above the bandages—-while keeping out of Grey’s line of sight. I can’t have him knowing what I’m doing to myself, no matter how much it hurts not telling him the truth.

”Where is he?” Grey murmurs, more to himself, just as Daxton finally returns.

Daxton cocks his head and gestures that I should get out of the car.

”You can stay here and rest for a few days. I have enough money saved up to last a while.”

Adrenaline surges through me, creating a relentless, pounding rhythm.

”W-what do you mean?” I cannot hide the slight tremor in my voice.

”I’m leaving some money for you.”

”Why?”

He doesn’t reply at first, his gaze drifting back to the car where Grey is, a cigarette in his hand while taking a puff inside his brother’s car. Another beat of silence, and Daxton’s eyes come back to mine, sorrow clouding his irises.

“I failed him. It’s the least I can do.” He shrugs.

I see the way nerves eat away at his insides, eyes flickering with barely concealed anguish. There’s a deep, unspoken longing in his gaze when he looks at his brother, and my stomach churns. They seem like they’re on opposite sides of the Atlantic, a vast ocean of hurt and misunderstanding between them, waves and predators tearing them apart in the water.

“I can’t stay.” He gives me a sorrowful smile full of regret. “It’s too dangerous. And we all have our lives to live, even if it’s hard right now.”

Grey has opened the car door by now, his eyes focused on his little brother. I wish I could make it better between the both of them, but I know I’m helpless in this situation. Their inner wounds run too deep down to be able to heal. I doubt they ever will.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” I whisper.

For the past few months, he was the only solid thing in a world that fell apart when Grey wasn’t present. Daxton is my friend, and now I’m going to lose him. Life is so fucking unfair.

“Yeah.” He gives me a faint smile.

Swallowing down the worries, I throw my arms around him, holding him in a long hug until I feel the crushing weight of his arms around me. “Thank you,” I say into his chest, feeling tears hit the corners of my eyes. I blink them away, refusing to let them fall.

I will not cry. I will not crumble.

”You know it’s okay to cry, right? It doesn’t make you weak, Naya.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, as if he could see the thoughts lingering in my mind. I swallow down the thickness in my throat, clearing it and instead focusing on something else to say.

“I can’t tell you how immensely grateful I am.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” He tries to laugh, but it comes out strangled, emotions cloaking his voice.

He clears his throat and moves to the front seat of the car, grabbing a backpack. His shoulders are stiff, and he avoids looking at Grey, discomfort evident.

“This has everything you need, from money to extra clothes, for the days ahead. I prepared it when we first considered escaping.”

“Are you sure we can take it?”

He reaches it for me to grab, and I take it uncertainly.

“Working for Arthur allowed me to save up all my payments since I wasn’t allowed to leave. I didn’t know if I would ever be allowed to. He had my life in his hands, just like all the others.” Taking a deep breath, he shrugs as if his words doesn’t carry a heavy weight. “You saved me as much as I saved you. So thank you.”

“I wrote down my number on a piece of paper that’s stuffed in the backpack, too. You know, if you ever want to contact me again, if you get the chance.” His smile is tentative, but when I offer him a small one in return, his shoulders relax and it broadens into something warmer. “You can remove the bandages in a few days. Luckily, the wounds are nothing lethal.” He glances at my bandaged wrists.

Grey approaches us, standing behind me with his arms around my waist. I feel how he looks at his brother in the corner of my eye, but neither of them utters a word, both unsure of how to bridge the gap between them.

Daxton casts one final look at Grey, a gaze with so much indifference, regret, and sorrow that it makes me unable to decipher any of its meanings.

He remains silent, only nods and turns his back to us, heading toward his car.

Grey’s grip on me is so tight his knuckles turn a paler shade, seeking comfort in our embrace.

A heavy sensation lingers in my chest, telling me that I might never see him again. This feels too much like an eternal goodbye than a temporary one.

“Until we meet again.” He looks at me, avoiding his brother, as if it’s too painful to face him directly.

Another thought hits me, and I scramble to get closer to his car, but Grey’s arms tighten around me, holding me back. “Wait, where are you heading?” I shout at him when he starts slowly driving out of the parking lot.

Sticking his head out through the window, he offers me a grin. “New adventures. Sweden.”

I grin back at him, remembering isolated times in the doctor’s office when he shared his dream of exploring Scandinavia.

Meanwhile, Grey’s grip around my waist is ironclad, and the tension in his hold tells me everything—he’s struggling with not getting a goodbye from his own brother.

Daxton’s car turns around a corner before disappearing forever, leaving the parking lot empty with the silence heavier than ever. Grey’s arms remain around me, as if he’s trying to anchor himself amidst the swirl of emotions.

His grip is strong, yet I feel the tremor that reveals the sense of betrayal he must feel once more from his brother.