His head is tilted just enough that I can’t see his face.
I peer toward him and his face is dark.
“Who are you?” I ask, and my words sound hollow. He cocks his head but doesn’t answer, although there’s a low growl in his throat.
“What do you want?”
He’s calm, his head is down. But his arm comes up, And he points at me.
He wants me.
“Me?”
“Of course.” I know him I know him I know him.
But I can’t place from where.
“I can help you, you know.”
“You can?”
He nods.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll show you where horrid things hide.”
His smile is one of camaraderie, and any port in a storm.
When we’re in the driveway, he turns to me.
“Maybe you should’ve brought a wrap. You might get cold.”
But he puts the top down on his car anyway, and we speed through the night, away from Whitley.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask, relieved to be so far away.
He glances at me.
“Someplace you should see. If you think you want to be with Dare, you should know all about him.”
“Do you know Dare?”
“Of course,” he says. “He’s my brother.”
I’m surprised, but not, because I knew that I knew that I knew that. I just don’t remember how. There’s something in his voice now, something rigid, and I startle, because maybe I shouldn’t have chosen this port.
He turns down a dark road, a quiet lane, and then we pull to a stop in front of an old, crumbling building.
“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, traipsing up the steps. The sign by the door says Oakdale Sanitarium and I freeze.
“What is this place?” I whisper as he opens the door.
“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” he murmurs.
In front of us, a long hallway yawns farther than I can see, the walls crumbling with age, the lights dim when he flips a switch.
There’s no one here, but I can hear moans, screams, whimpers.
“I don’t understand,” I feel like whimpering myself. He rolls his eyes.
“Do you really think someone like Dare is without baggage? Grow up, little girl.”
He pushes open the doors as we pass, and they’re all empty, every single one.
But I feel presences here,
Ugliness.
When we’re almost at the end of the hall, he turns to me, his gaze ugly now and I should’ve known.
In my head, I see Dare and he’s so small.
He sits on a bed in this place, and his arms and his legs are bound.
The screams around us are deafening.
Dare’s eyes are wide and dark,
Haunted,
Haunted,
Haunted.
“Mum?” he asks, his eyes searching the wall behind us, and his tiny voice is hopeful.
A nurse hustles past us, and gives him a shot in the arm. “Hush, boy,” she tells him. “You know your mum is dead. She chose you instead of your brother, and then she went crazy. It’s your fault.”
Dare’s eyes cloud over before he closes them. “I know she’s dead because of me.”
“And you’re here because of that,” the nurse agrees. “You’re a little monster. If it weren’t for you, your mum would be alive.”
The hooded boy turns to me and his eyes are pained and he has Dare’s eyes.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
“The nurse is wrong,” he tells me in a strange tone. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be alive and Dare would never have been here. You can change it, Calla. You can change it. Do it. Do it.”
He reaches out his hand to me,
And I reach to take it,
Then I open my eyes.
And we never left Finn’s bedroom.
We. Never. Left.
And I’m alone.
What is happening to me?
I do need help.
I need Dare.
Because he was so hurt, and I don’t know why, but I know I’m hurting him now, more and more each day as I keep pushing him away.
He didn’t deserve that.
He doesn’t deserve this.
I’m reeling,
I’m reeling.
The room presses down on me, swirling and bending and stifling. I lunge for the door, and find Dare on the veranda, a drink in his hand as he stares absently into the night.
“Dare… I…”