Stay

6

"Leave him. He'll die if he's with you."

"Shut up," I muttered, pressing my palms into the counter, leaning down, careful not to look at my reflection. I didn't like mirrors, not when I had hallucinations.

"Leave him behind, he'll only make you get caught," the voice whispered again, its sinister tone sending shivers down my spine. The words slithered into my ears, leaving a trail of icy dread in their wake. Each syllable felt like a sharp blade, cutting through my fragile defenses.

"He's going to be killed, and it'll be your fault," the voice continued, its haunting whispers seeming to echo through the depths of my mind. The weight of those words bore down on me, suffocating me with guilt and paralyzing fear. It was as if the voice had tapped into my darkest insecurities, exploiting them mercilessly.

The room seemed to close in around me, the air growing heavy with an intangible menace. Shadows danced ominously in the corners of my vision, morphing into grotesque shapes that taunted and jeered. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound, became distorted in my ears, distorted by the voice's insidious presence.

"Shut up," I pleaded, my voice quivering with desperation. But the voice only grew louder, its insistent whispers seeping deeper into my consciousness.

"He's going to kill everyone you love, and it'll be your fault. Your fault... your fault... your fault," it hissed, each repetition driving the knife of terror deeper into my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to shut out the voice, but its tormenting words continued to reverberate within me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my surroundings, as I fought to regain control. The fear was overwhelming, threatening to consume me entirely. I felt like a helpless prey, trapped in the clutches of an invisible predator, its claws digging into my sanity.

"Go away, please go away," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper, as I covered my ears, desperately hoping to silence the relentless voice. But deep down, I knew that escaping its grip would not be so simple. The fear of what it might drive me to do, the fear of losing myself completely, was a haunting presence that refused to be ignored.

In the midst of the protagonist's escalating fear, a surge of panic gripped me, threatening to engulf me entirely. The once-familiar room now felt like a claustrophobic prison, the walls closing in with every passing moment. Every sound, every flicker of movement, heightened her senses, triggering a primal instinct to flee.

The voice, relentless and merciless, seemed to grow louder, its words intertwining with her thoughts until they became indistinguishable. It whispered of impending doom and painted vivid, horrifying scenarios in my mind. Images flashed before my eyes —my loved ones in danger, suffering at the hands of the hunter, at the hands of Mr. Curtis, a brutal murderer.

With trembling hands, I clutched onto the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning pale under the strain. Sweat trickled down my forehead, my whole body trembling uncontrollably. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, its rapid rhythm a constant reminder of my escalating terror.

A surge of desperation coursed through my veins, urging me to escape the tormenting voice. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake off the suffocating presence that had taken hold of my mind. It was as if the voice had become a permanent resident, an unwelcome intruder that had infiltrated the very fabric of my being.

As I stood there, engulfed in fear and uncertainty, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Lannie, are you in there?" Reid called, his voice ever filled with worry.

The shadows dispersed but not without one final word. "Get off the train at the next stop," the voice hissed. "Do it or he dies."

"Alayna," my brother hissed, "open the door or I'll knock it down."