Page 4
four
A s I stepped out of my bedroom the next morning, I glanced at the clock: 7:35 AM. I had a brief window before Reggie might show up, and I was determined to make the most of it. If I hurried, I could avoid the hassle of cooking his breakfast.
I raced through my usual routine, scrambling to get ready. Finally, I burst out the door, my hiking gear in hand. This day off had been a long time coming, and I was more than ready to indulge in the freedom it promised.
The sun was shining brightly, practically begging me to get outside for some fresh air. I only risked driving when absolutely necessary. My car’s reliability was a game of chance, and today wasn’t the day to roll the dice. So, I decided to walk. Deano’s was my first stop. I ordered my usual latte, then settled into a quiet spot, savoring the warmth of the drink as I took in the peaceful view.
The mountains were breathtaking, their jagged peaks dusted with the first hint of autumn’s gold. I could see the trees shifting from green to fiery reds and oranges, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze. There was a crispness to the air, not cold but refreshing, drifting in through the shop’s window, filling the space with the sharp scent of pine and earth.
I loved admiring the view, but nothing compared to the feeling of being surrounded by it. Hiking was my favorite pastime, and the connection I felt to nature went beyond appreciation. It was as though the world itself was alive, breathing with me, every step grounding me in a peace I couldn’t find anywhere else.
Just then, a familiar voice cut through my thoughts.
“Bryn, is that you?”
I turned to see Sadie standing before me, her eyes bright with warmth, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket.
“Sadie! So good to see you!” I waved her over, leaning back in my chair. “Come sit, relax. ”
Her expression softened with apology, her shoulders lifting in a faint shrug. “I wish I could stay and catch up, but I have to get to the store and set up for the day.” She glanced at her watch, her eyes flicking away before meeting mine again, a trace of regret in them. “It was really good seeing you. You should stop by sometime.”
“Yeah, of course.” I nodded, forcing a bright smile. “Take it easy.”
But as Sadie hurried off, a pang of disappointment settled in. My social circle wasn’t exactly huge. Okay, it was nonexistent. It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. I’d made attempts at forming connections, but they always fizzled into shallow acquaintanceships. What I craved was a real, heartfelt friendship, one where I could be myself, without fear of judgment or rejection.
As I sat there, the sting of loneliness sharp, envy of Reggie and Sal’s close bond washed over me. It was a painful reminder of my isolation. How sad I had become, indeed.
I finished my drink, tossed the cup in the trash, and stepped out into the bright sunlight. The warmth on my skin was a welcome respite as I made my way to the trailhead.
At the entrance, I fought through thick underbrush until the narrow trail revealed itself. It was so overgrown and hidden that only someone who already knew it existed would’ve spotted the way in .
The terrain grew more difficult as I pressed forward, but I didn’t stop. After several miles, the landscape opened suddenly, revealing a breathtaking cliff. I followed the winding track down, savoring the view like a traveler stumbling upon an untouched oasis. A faint thread of sound teased the air, a whisper of water, hinting at a waterfall just ahead.
The descent stretched on, time blurring as my legs burned with each step. When I finally rounded the last bend, the roar surged into a deafening rush. And then, there it was—right before me, the awe-inspiring falls.
I claimed a rocky perch and sank onto it, exhaustion fading in the face of such beauty. Peeling off my boots and socks, I dipped my feet into the cool, crystal-clear water. Reclining against the warm stone, I closed my eyes and let the sound surround me. The breeze it stirred whispered through my hair, loosening the tension from my shoulders.
In moments like this, I felt something beyond myself. Like my soul had stepped out of time and into the rhythm of the earth. Everything aligned. I belonged.
The roar of the water softened into a kind of lullaby, steady and strong. My eyelids grew heavy. I let the sound carry me, and I began to drift.
But as I slipped into sleep, fragments of Ezekiel’s tortured face tore through my mind. His pupils were blown wide with terror, his skin slick with sweat, as if trapped in a nightmare. His bronzed complexion had faded to a sickly gray, and his form shimmered like a ghost struggling to stay tethered to reality. That hollow, desperate stare pleaded with me, but whatever he was trying to say remained just out of reach.
Disjointed words spilled from his lips, garbled and broken. Still, I could’ve sworn I heard him murmur, “Bryn, baby, where are you?”
His figure wavered, sliding in and out of view—until, suddenly, his face loomed inches from mine, flushed and panicked. His scream shattered the silence: “RUN!”
I shot upright, my own cry echoing through the trees. Heart racing, I scanned my surroundings, breath caught in my throat. The stillness around me felt unnatural, like something waiting just beyond sight. Whatever peace I’d found here had vanished, replaced by a knot of dread tightening in my gut.
I struggled to make sense of the dream, but its details slipped through my fingers like a memory just out of reach. Still, one feeling clung to me: the sense that he was out there—his eyes, his voice, somehow brushing against me through the trees.
I packed my things with shaking hands and set off, the terrain suddenly darker, more oppressive. Even the shadows seemed to lean closer with every step.
After hours of hiking, I finally broke through the trees, blinking into sunlight that felt too bright, too sharp. I stood there for a moment, trying to draw warmth from it, but the comfort didn’t last .
Am I losing my grip on reality? I wondered. Is it just stress…or something else? A flicker of unease crept up my spine. Had casting Ezekiel in my stories unleashed a dark force, one that now haunted my every waking moment?
Too drained to follow through with my plans, I headed straight home.
The moment I stepped into the farmhouse, I froze. Reggie was sitting at the kitchen table, his figure outlined in the dim light. A thick stillness pressed in around me, so heavy it felt like the walls were listening.
His voice, slow and deliberate, sent a tremor through me.
“Bryn...”
He let the silence stretch, suffocating.
Then, in that same careful tone: “Where have you been?”
Something was wrong. Very wrong. My mind scrambled, searching for the mistake I hadn’t realized I’d made. His usual false charm had vanished, replaced by something colder—something dangerous.
My legs turned to lead. “I…I was out hiking. What’s wrong, Reggie?” I hated how small my voice sounded.
His chair groaned as he turned to face me. His gray eyes locked onto mine, steel and smoke swirling like a storm. But behind them, something darker waited. Twisted. Almost…otherworldly. A shadow had taken hold of him, and I could feel it warping the air around us.
Then I saw it. The book. The one I’d hidden beneath my mattress. Clutched in his hand.
My heart plummeted.
No. No, no, no.
I thought I’d hidden it so well. How did he find it?
His gaze burned through me, stripping me bare. My breath caught. My hands trembled.
His voice was a low growl. “What exactly do we have here?”
The question clung to the air, heavy with threat.
I tried to speak, but nothing came—just a broken, “Uh, um…” The words choked in my throat.
Reggie’s lip curled. He mimicked me with a sneer: “Uh, um…”
Then his voice cracked through the room.
“I thought I made it crystal clear these books were off-limits. What part of stay away didn’t you get?! Are you really this stupid?”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink.
My eyes stayed locked on his as tears clawed their way up. I fought to keep them back. My chest burned. My heartbeat thundered.
He rose slowly, pressing his palms into the table. Every inch of him radiated control—and fury. When he stepped closer, his breath hit my skin. Hot. Close. Threatening.
He leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Cat got your tongue? Where’s the quick wit? The clever quips? You’re usually full of them.”
His voice dripped with venom. Every word meant to slice.
I lowered my gaze, avoiding his burning stare, and stepped back, trying to find space.
“Reggie, listen…” My voice shook. Every word was a struggle. But I clung to what little control I had left.
He stepped forward, closing the gap I’d tried to create.
“No… you listen,” he growled, the sound crackling through me like a live wire. “Apparently, you’ve forgotten how I feel about these things. Let me refresh your memory.”
He ripped the pages from the book one by one, his jaw clenched tight as his fingers gripped the edges with force. The sound of tearing paper sliced through the air like a warning bell, and his shoulders tensed with each pull, his movements controlled and precise.
He strode into the living room, the fire crackling in the hearth, and tossed the shredded papers into the flames. The blaze devoured them greedily, as if it thrived on my horror.
He stood motionless, eyes locked on the inferno as the torn remnants burned. Then, slowly, he turned and walked back toward me, each step deliberate, until he was dangerously close.
His voice was calm. Too calm. “Let this be a lesson, Brynlynn.” Each syllable landed like a blow. “Disobey me again, and I’ll make sure your whole world burns. Everything you know—gone. What’s left will be darkness and misery. And I’ll be the one to watch it happen.”
Terror twisted in my chest, seizing every inch of me from the inside out.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came. Just a nod. A quiet surrender.
He loomed, nose nearly brushing mine, rage rolling off him in waves.
My fingers curled into fists, my whole body bracing for impact, heart pounding like a drumbeat I couldn’t silence. I feared— no, knew —he might strike.
Please. Please don’t hit me.
But instead, without another word, he stormed toward the door. It crashed shut so hard the walls rattled. The shock of it made me flinch.
Silence fell like ash. Heavy. Final.
And in its place, only emptiness, hollow and aching in the wake of his fury.
I ran upstairs, burst into my bedroom—then stopped cold.
Drawers had been yanked open, their contents flung everywhere, strewn across the floor like the wreckage of my life. My belongings lay discarded, meaningless. Trashed.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I took in the destruction. The room was a battlefield, ravaged by Reggie’s wrath. And I knew—I was to blame. I’d set this in motion. I should’ve destroyed that book long ago, before it ever had the chance to unleash this kind of havoc.
The weight of it all cracked open inside me.
I grabbed my hair, dropped to my knees, and screamed. A raw, guttural sound that tore from somewhere deep and broken.
Then, a sharp, deafening pop.
The room plunged into darkness.
I froze, the echo of my scream swallowed by the sudden silence.
My legs wobbled as I stood, unsteady, and reached for the lamp. My hand hovered over the switch, but something caught my eye.
Glass. Shattered. Glinting on the nightstand like scattered teeth.
I moved closer. The bulb was blown to pieces, its fragments catching the faintest light, sharp and cold. It looked like it had burst apart from the inside, like something had snapped and couldn’t be held anymore.
I stared at it for a long moment, pulse still racing.
Then I whispered, “Great.” The word felt useless in the dark .
I swept the glass into my palm, too tired to care about the sting. Tiny slivers pressed into my skin, but I barely flinched. I just wanted it gone. Next time, I’d buy a safer brand. Something reliable. Something that didn’t explode the moment life got hard.
I couldn’t sit in that wreckage another second. I needed to feel different. To be different.
The next few hours dissolved in a blur of movement and noise. I scrubbed every surface, shoved furniture into new places, rearranged drawers and shelves like I could somehow shift the energy inside the walls. Like I could shake him out of the corners.
Eventually, I dragged my bed to the window, where the shape of the mountains cut through the distant haze. A small act of rebellion. Of reclamation.
I sat down hard, breathing heavy, surrounded by the quiet hum of the room. The ache in my chest was sharp and sudden. My book—my escape, my sanctuary—was gone. Burned.
All I had now were the words it left behind. Branded into me. Echoing like scars. I could only hope they’d be enough to get me through the empty days ahead.