Page 5

Five

I woke up gasping, the damp sheets clinging to me like the dream still hadn’t let go. My skin was too cold, my breath too short. The remnants of the dream clung to me, heavy as wet silk, refusing to let go.

I turned my head sharply, my gaze snapping to the shelf.

Moon sat there, unblinking. Watching.

The whisper of frost still lingered on my skin, a phantom touch that shouldn’t have been real. But it was. I knew it was.

A shudder rippled through me as I dragged myself out of bed, unsteady on my feet. My body still carried the weight of sleep, a sluggish pull that resisted every movement. I needed coffee. I needed to shake this feeling before it buried itself too deep.

Padding into the kitchen, I flipped the switch on the coffee maker and leaned against the counter, pressing my palms into the cool surface. What was happening to me?

The dream had felt too real. Not like the hazy, fragmented nonsense I usually forgot by mid-morning. No, this had been sharp, layered with texture and sensation that didn’t fade with waking. The pressure of Moon’s presence, the whisper of his voice, the way the shadows had curled around my ankles like living things.

My fingers curled against the counter. I needed to stop thinking about it.

A warmth settled against my back, familiar yet suffocating, like stepping into sunlight after hours in the cold.

My breath hitched, my grip on the counter tightening. That feeling?—

I turned.

Sun was leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching me with a grin that was just a little too wide.

My blood turned to ice. No.

His golden porcelain gleamed in the morning light, the edges of his frame glowing as if he’d stepped right out of a dream. But he wasn’t a dream. He was here, real and solid, his presence as blinding as it was inescapable.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. “You?—”

The words never left my mouth.

I blinked, and he was gone.

The kitchen was empty.

The air still hummed with the remnants of warmth, a phantom pressure against my skin where he had been. My chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, my pulse a rapid staccato.

I turned my head toward the shelf, heart pounding in my throat.

Sun sat there, unmoving. Exactly where he should be.

But my skin still burned where he had touched me.

I forced myself to drink my coffee, even though the taste was wrong. Bitter, too strong, a reminder that my hands had been shaking when I scooped the grounds into the machine.

Get a grip.

I had a list of things to do today. Things that didn’t involve staring at a pair of dolls and wondering if I was losing my mind.

Laundry. Bills. Grocery shopping. Normal things.

I grabbed my phone, checking my messages. Nothing urgent. Just a few emails, spam texts, and?—

My stomach twisted.

A missed call from a number I didn’t want to recognize—Wyrmwood State Correctional Facility.

My pulse roared in my ears. I squeezed the phone tighter, my breath coming too fast. How? How did he have my number? Who let him call me? Why now?

My knees nearly buckled. I braced myself against the counter, every muscle locking into place. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Then, another voice.

Soft. Familiar.

“Sunlight.”

The warmth was back. The golden, suffocating heat of a presence that didn’t belong.

My eyes snapped up. Sun was there. In the reflection of the microwave door.

Smiling.

The golden light wrapped around me, winding through my ribs, curling around my lungs.

It pulsed with each breath I took, slow and rhythmic, syncing with the frantic drum of my heartbeat until it steadied.

Warmth sinking in.

Seeping into my bones.

The tension in my shoulders unraveled, muscle by muscle, like strings being pulled loose from a frayed knot.

My pulse slowed. The world softened around the edges, growing hazy, golden.

Safe.

Sun’s voice melted into my thoughts, thick as honey, rich as molten gold. “There you go, sunlight. Doesn’t that feel better?”

I blinked sluggishly, my fingers going limp around my phone, my mind swaying, floating, drifting. Yes. Yes, it did.

The phone call, the fear, the cold—all of it felt so distant. Like a story I had once told myself, but one that didn’t belong here anymore.

“Let go.” His voice was velvet, wrapping around me, weaving through every nerve. “No more worries. No more fears. Just me.”

The words curled through my mind, filling the empty spaces. No more fears.

Just him.

I exhaled slowly, the last ounce of resistance slipping through my fingers like sand.

But something was wrong.

I shouldn’t?—

A single, sharp gust of cold cut through the warmth, slicing along the curve of my neck like a whisper of ice.

My breath hitched. My heart stuttered.

Cold. A whisper of it, barely there, brushing against the back of my neck. A distant, silvery chill, threading through the warmth, pushing against the gold.

Moon.

My mind wavered, caught between fire and frost. Which one was real?

Sun’s warmth pressed in, coaxing, lulling. “Forget him.”

The cold curled tighter.

Don’t.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a sharp breath slicing through my lungs. This wasn’t real.

The golden fog fractured.

I gasped, the air rushing back in all at once, shoving the haze aside. The warmth snapped away, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

I was alone in the kitchen.

The phone sat in my hand, the screen still showing the missed call blinking in red.

I wasn’t sure if the shaking in my hands was fear or rage.

The dolls sat on the shelf, watching.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of.