Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
The room is freezing. I can see my breath when I exhale. The nights have been comfortable so far, but tonight, I have to wonder if the heat is even on. Perhaps they shut down the heat pump at night sometimes to conserve power, and this is the first time I’ve noticed. That said, the day had been warm and sunny, finally feeling like summer is on the way.
After Dr. Wu’s breakdown, we stayed on the beach, all of us eventually having a stone-skipping competition and enjoying the weather until lunch rolled around, and then it was time for yet another “foraging” expedition with Nick. We took the logging road to the west, taking lichen samples from a stand of maples. Nick told us that Dr. Wu was going through something very personal at the moment, the loss of a friend, and that next week, Everly would take her place in teaching.
At dinner, my appetite stayed steady, and I was able to enjoy the grilled spring salmon and roast veggies before I went to bed, early as usual, though I made a point of writing down in my diary.
I sigh, hoping I can get back to sleep, and settle further into my pillow, careful not to lie on my aching arm. I feel the weightlessness of drifting back to sleep when I hear something that pulls me out of it.
A loud groan outside my door.
The floorboards.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, my body going still. Not this again.
I tilt my head to look at the door.
The light under the frame is dim, a strange white glow.
There’s a shadow of two feet standing in the hallway.
I breathe in sharply. The cold air solidifies in my chest, fear settling in my bones as if trying to make a home in the marrow.
What the fuck?
Please let that be a student, I can’t help but think. Even Clayton would be fine.
I don’t know why my mind is jumping to the supernatural, but it’s kind of a given with a creaky old lodge like this one and zombie wolves in the forest.
The person moves, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, and something about that both makes me think they’re anxious and also makes me think it’s not a ghost.
Then they move, the floorboards creaking as they walk down the hall.
Stay put, I tell myself.
Let them go.
Don’t get up.
And yet I get up, as if my blood is thick with metal and someone outside is wielding a giant magnet. I step into my slippers, grab my robe and cinch it against the cold, then go to the door.
I don’t want to listen; I don’t want to hear that awful inhuman voice hissing please. I already heard a wolf talking—that was enough.
Release me, it had said.
That was the one part I left out when talking to Kincaid, Everly, and the others about what had happened. They didn’t need to know that part.
Instead, I unlock the door, put my hand on the knob, and yank it open.
The hallway is darker than normal. Instead of the sconces glowing at intervals along the wall, there’s only one light midway down the hall, casting everything else in shadow.
At the end of the hall is a blur of a person, a girl in a white nightgown, a flash of long dark hair as she disappears into the shower room.
I stare at her for a moment, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It could be Natasha—her hair is similar—but there was something unnerving about the way she walked, the way she held herself like she was…
Broken.
I stand there, waiting for her to close the door of the shower room.
But she doesn’t. It remains partially open, enough that I can see inside. Or I would be able to if there was enough light. It’s blacker than black, not just shadows, but like a void.
And the lodge is so silent it’s like it’s holding its breath along with me. I can’t hear anyone else, no one snoring or turning in their sleep, and no sound of the shower or someone undressing in the room.
What is going on?
I find myself padding down the hallway in my slippers, trying to avoid creaky floorboards. As I pass by the light I realize it’s a nightlight, one that would turn on if the power went out.
As I get closer to the end of the hall, I finally hear a sound.
Coming from the shower.
A rustling sound like…
Raspy breathing.
I stop just outside the door, afraid to pull it open, afraid to ask if they’re okay, if they need any help. My chest feels constricted, like it’s squeezing my heart and making it smaller and smaller, the beat irregular as it tries to escape.
I reach out with my hand.
It’s shaking.
Cold air breathes down my spine, my skin sharp with goosebumps.