Page 107 of Last Seen

She uses her hands to feel around. Whatever she is lying on feels like fine mesh.

She crawls to her left and is met with a sharp triangle of what feels like foam, rows of it, one after the other. To her right, the same. There is not much room to move. She stands up, reaching her arms to what she thinks must be the ceiling, and vertigo swamps her. There is no horizon, nothing to latch on to, nothing to keep her upright. The darkness is so complete, the absence of sound so profound, she has to think this is how the blind and deaf must feel. She collapses back to the mesh. She is now among their ranks. At least with that, she can lie down again.

Her thoughts are jumbled, spinning. Memories of the past week come fast and hard. There is still no light, no sound, no movement. She is buried alive and her senses are gone.

Hysteria seizes her. Tears pour from her eyes. Rational thought is impossible. Her neurons fire, and in the absence of all stimuli and the overwhelming terror of this dark place, something breaks inside her head. She is trapped there, inside her own mind, and can’t escape. She has lost her grip on reality. The darkness has eaten her soul.

This is what going insane feels like. She shrieks, wailing, again and again and again, and knows deep inside no one can hear her. The crack inside her sanity is audible to her alone.

She is back in the house she grew up in.

She is six years old.

Her sister is fighting with her mother.

Screaming, crying.

There is a man.

His back is to her.

There is a glint in his hand.

He charges forward.

Her sister screams.

The knife connects.

Her mother falls.

The white carpet, red.

The wail building from deep inside her.

She runs, falls at her mother’s side.

Blank eyes, light leaving.

Mouth moving. A harsh whisper.

“Run, Halley Bear. Run.”

She runs.

He follows.

Cat cries out.

He ignores the protest.

She knows. She has to die.

He catches her by the foot.

Swings her around.

Her head hits the mantel.