Page 14
Story: When Death Whispers
13
My head’s pounding.
Not like a normal headache—but something deeper, like claws scraping behind my eyes, dragging down into my chest. I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles aching as I sneak a glance at Parker in the passenger seat. She’s tucked into her hoodie, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the trees rushing past outside like they might open up and swallow us both.
The dome lights are all on again inside the cab, in an effort to keep shadows away, casting a glow that should feel comforting but instead makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
Parker hasn’t said a word since we left the bakery. I don’t blame her. I can still hear the metallic thud of that dough scraper hitting the wall. Still feel the desperate way she yanked me out of its path. If she hadn’t?—
I don’t finish the thought.
She shouldn’t have to protect me. But that’s what’s happening. And I hate it.
The sky’s lightening by the time we pull into her driveway—those weird in-between hours where night hasn’t fully let go but morning hasn’t committed. The world’s in limbo. So are we.
The white streaks in my hair catch my attention in the rearview mirror, and I look away quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. At first I told myself it’s just stress, but that lie is getting harder to hold.
Because normal people don’t usually see shadows moving in places they shouldn’t. Or feel like something’s watching them from the shadows. Or get a glimpse of something hovering on the stairs—a dark, shapeless figure with glowing orange eyes and smoke curling around it like a cape.
“You okay?” Parker’s voice cuts through the silence. She’s staring at me now, brows drawn together in concern. She thinks I don’t notice when she worries. But I do. I notice everything about her. From the little wrinkle she gets when she’s frowning, to the way she bites at her bottom lip, to the way she wrings her hands together and tries to hide it.
I see it all and I fucking hate it. Mostly because I have to hold myself back from doing everything I can to erase those tells, but also because I now know why she gets panic attacks.
“Yeah,” I lie, forcing a grin. “Just tired. It’s been a long night.”
Hell, a long couple of days, if I’m being honest. Feels like my whole life cracked open in the span of a few hours.
She nods, but it’s clear she doesn’t buy it. Not entirely. Still, she lets it go.
She always sees more than people think.
That’s the thing about Parker—she doesn’t let me hide behind the grin. She doesn’t fall for the golden boy routine everyone else eats up. Normally, I’m the guy people like but don’t really know. The one who keeps things light, doesn’t ruffle feathers, always has something charming to say.
But Parker sees through it.
And the messed-up part is—I like it. Crave it, even. Being seen. Really seen. It’s terrifying and grounding all at once. Earlier she said I mattered. I’ve never mattered before, not truly, not completely. To anyone. Except maybe my parents. She cares and I’m… totally addicted.
We pull into the driveway of her little house. I cut the engine and hesitate. The silence stretches between us.
“I think I’m gonna run home real quick,” I say finally, breaking it. “Grab some stuff.”
Parker looks over, brows lifting.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I add, smirking a little. “Your wardrobe is surprisingly comfortable. But I’m pretty sure these sweatpants are cutting off circulation to vital areas.”
That earns a small snort and I swear her cheeks turn pink. “They’re not even that tight.”
“They are, actually. And I draw the line at wearing your pineapple socks again.”
“Hey, those socks are iconic.”
I smile at the back-and-forth, but the warmth in my chest dims quickly. I need her to know I’m not running—not from her, anyway.
“I’ll be back before noon,” I say. “Figured it’s safer to go while it’s light out.”
Her face softens, the edges of her wariness relaxing just enough to make something in my chest ache. “Okay.”
I nod. “You need anything while I’m out?”
She shakes her head. “No. Just… be careful.”
“I will.” I point to the dome lights still on above us and that earns me another small smile and a shake of her head.
She opens the door and steps out, boots crunching on the gravel. I watch her walk to the porch, the light buzzing faintly overhead. She hesitates at the top step and turns back.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she says. “But I’m glad you are.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah. Me too.”
She disappears inside, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
For a second, I don’t move. Just sit there, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me anchored. My hand comes up to my chest, pressing against the spot where it feels like something is clawing at me from the inside. It’s faint now, but it’s definitely getting worse.
I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I know it’s because of… him. Her monster. He’s still here. I can feel it in the way the air shifts, the way the darkness lingers too long in corners where it shouldn’t.
He marked me. I don’t know how, but I feel it now—like a tether pulling tight, like something rotting inside me that wasn’t there before. I see things now. Flashes of cold, dark places. Glimpses of bones in reflective surfaces one second, and then gone the next.
Alongside the smell of decay and a low, growling voice whispering my name, telling me things I don’t want to hear. Promises I don’t want to believe.
She’s mine.
You can’t protect her.
I ball my fists and shake my head, like that might clear the whispers away.
I won’t let him have her.
Parker’s house is lit up like a beacon, every window glowing with warm yellow light. Before, when I’d drive by, I’d wonder why she always had the lights on, but now I know… It’s protection. A buffer between her and the thing that hunts in the dark.
I glance at the windows, at the soft silhouette of her moving inside. Still here. Still safe.
For now.
I shove the door open, stepping out into the chill. The shadows around the yard seem darker than they should be. Watching. Waiting.
I exhale slowly, letting the cold burn through the heat in my chest. “Alright,” I mutter, scanning the yard, the woods beyond. “If you’re still out there, you want me—take me. And leave Parker the hell alone.”
The trees don’t answer. The shadows stay still.
But that buzzing in my bones doesn’t stop.
I linger awhile, waiting for something to come. A sign. A growl. A flicker. Anything. But the dark just presses in—too quiet. Too patient.
Eventually, I force myself back into the Jeep, slam the door, and pull away from her house, casting one last glance in the rearview.
She’s safe.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her that way.
Even if it means falling apart.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14 (Reading here)
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65