Page 139 of His Trick

“Chhooossseeee meeee,” the thing hissed, worse than any demon.

“Shiloh?” Professor Daniels’s voice cut through. Alarm. Authority. But nothing grounded me. “Are you okay, Anderson?”

No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. Not here. Not with her, not with him.

My body betrayed me, my fucking knees buckling underneath me. The lab spun in my vision, the tiles tilting, the instruments glinting like teeth.

I could feel Carrington behind my eyes, pressing his warmth into my chest, accusing me of manipulating him, weeping silently in that damn broken house.

And Xanthy, the unyielding, relentless Alexandra Harding.

They stood there in every corner together, every reflection, reminding me of the life I had chosen and the betrayal I had committed.

Mason tried to steady me, but his hands felt like chains. “Man…just breathe. Talk to me, Shy. You’re okay, man.”

I shook my head violently.

“No…no, you don’t…you don’t understand.” My voice broke.

Tears streamed down my face freely, mixing with the taste of vodka and the chemical antiseptic.

The cadaver shifted. In my mind, it was alive—Xanthy’s grin, but Carrington’s lips, merging into one impossibly cruel specter. I screamed, my hands clawing at the empty air.

“Shiloh!” Daniels barked, grabbing my shoulders. “Look at me. Focus. You’re having a panic attack. Can you hear me?”

I can’t.

I can’t.

My reality is fractured.

Chairs tipped, classmates whispered, while others gasped. I staggered, almost falling, gripping the edge of the table, my vodka bottle sliding from my coat, spilling the icy liquid across the tile. My vision blurred, consciousness teetering on the edge.

Carrington’s ghost pressed against me, accusing and longing. Xanthy’s voice vibrated in my pocket, her text notifications buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.

X: “Did you pick the centerpieces yet? We have to finalize the wedding colors. Hurry.”

I fell to my knees.

My hands trembled uncontrollably.

My stomach twisted violently. I gagged, vomiting the vodka and potato chips, the only things I had consumed for the last two days.

The lab spun faster, my reality warping further. Instruments glinted like claws, hands stretched out to me, attempting to drag me to hell. The cadavers rose in my mind, alive and laughing.

I felt her, him, Carrington, Xanthy, Carrington, Xanthy.

Never-ending.

They were everywhere at once, pressing into my skin, clawing into my chest.

Mason crouched beside me. “Shhhh…okay. Breathe. You’re okay. It’s okay, Shiloh. Breathe, my dude.”

I didn’t hear him. I didn’t see him.

My mind was flooded with images: the haunted house, Carrington sobbing as I walked away, my fucking come rolling down his thighs like my tears, and Xanthy taunting me on a loop.

It all merged into one relentless, impossible reality.