Page 54 of Twisted Violet

“…Yeah.”

There’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before.

Not from Niko, the guy who stares down threats like they bore him.

He’s panicking.

“Hold on,” I tell him, already turning on my heel.

I sprint down the hallway, past the darkened living room, into the utility closet.

The shadows feel thicker here, closer.

I dig past old batteries and cleaning supplies and feel my fingers graze against cold steel. It’s the crowbar Rome stashed here weeks ago. “Just in case,” he’d said.

I never thought we’d have a use for it.

By the time I get back to Niko’s door, my chest is tight from more than just running.

“I’ve got it,” I say, jamming the crowbar into the seam between the door and frame. “It’s gonna make noise.”

He doesn’t answer.

I press my shoulder against the door and push.

The metal groans and the frame creaks like it’s about to snap in half.

“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, throwing my weight into it again.

A crack. A pop. Then the door gives way.

It swings open an inch, then another, and I see Niko.

He’s shirtless and pale, with sweat shining across his collarbones.

His jaw is clenched tight, and his chest is rising and falling like he’s just run a mile.

His eyes are wild, unfocused and too sharp all at once, like he’s seeing something that isn’t there.

He looks like he’s still trapped in the dark, even in the light.

“Hey,” I say softly.

He stares at me. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

I don’t ask what’s wrong with him. I don’t need to. It’s written all over his face.

Niko is scared of the dark.

I lift my flashlight, step inside, and I reach my hand out to him.

“Let’s go find some candles.”

The candles flicker quietly,casting soft amber light across the room.

The storm’s still going outside, wind dragging rain against the windows, but in here, everything feels still.

We sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall.