Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I huff a laugh, realizing I’m probably hallucinating again, but that’s okay. At least I’m home. At least I’m safe.
Safe? I hear a deep voice ask. It’s that same voice—the one I thought I heard in my apartment. The same one from my nightmares that calls out to me. No one is ever really safe, are they?
I roll my eyes. “Nice try. You can’t scare me tonight. I’m too stoned.”
Stoned? What a strange word choice.
Okay. This is humorous, albeit freaky. I can hear this voice intwining with my thoughts. The voice isn’t scary. If anything, it seems the voice is familiar with me, yet I have no clue who it belongs to. “Who the hell are you?” I ask. “Seriously—why can I hear you but not see you? Wait, are you my conscience?”
It’s quiet for a long time, so long I think maybe I am making this voice all up in my head.
I’ve wondered the same thing. Who the hell are you? And why the hell has your voice been tormenting me?
“Holy shit,” I breathe. No. Not real. Not real.
Trust me, this is very real, the voice says.
“What the hell?” I sit up to put out my joint. That’s clearly enough of that. I go to my drawer, taking out pink pajama pants and an oversized Clemson T-shirt and changing. Then I lie back down and watch the ceiling fan, allowing it to distract my thoughts. But then it stops spinning, replaced by an oblong purple circle.
It’s that purple light again. It shakes and moves, wiggles like neon purple waves. I blink slowly and, unlike last time, I don’t get up to check if it’s coming from outside. Truthfully, I don’t care what this light is or where it’s coming from, but I’m intrigued by it, and it’s better than thinking I’m crazy by talking to some random voice in my head.
The light spreads across the ceiling and moves closer to me, and I raise a hand, reaching for it. I’m surprised when I touch some of it and the purple waves spill like liquid onto my fingers, slowly running down the inside of my arm and dribbling onto my cheek. I use my other hand to wipe my cheek while studying the purple glowing liquid on my fingers, then look back up—the light has spread more. It’s rippling faster.
My body becomes weightless, and before the realization hits me, I’m floating toward the light. It ripples faster, faster, and I’m getting closer. I draw in a deep breath as if I’m about to go under water, and I think to myself that this is all comical. I’m so high that I’m imagining myself swimming in this purple pool of water, dancing in it. I feel the water on my flesh, illuminating my brown skin. My body floats higher, higher, and then I’m in the purple vortex pool, floating effortlessly. I turn over and look down, right at my bed. I can see my whole apartment from here, a bird’s eye view.
And that’s when I panic. I shouldn’t be floating. I shouldn’t be in the vortex. How fucking high am I?
I try to swim back toward my room, force my body down, but it’s useless. This vortex is strong, and it sucks me in further and further. I kick my legs, spread my arms, and even try clawing onto something, but there’s nothing to hold on to.
I continue floating, my room appearing smaller and smaller the more I’m sucked in. Eventually, my room is gone, and I’m swallowed whole. The purple light fades to a blinding black, and for the second time tonight, I belt out a helpless scream.
Blackwater
Ten
WILLOW
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
I repeat the words internally and finally open my eyes. To my surprise, the blackness has faded, but the entire front side of my body throbs in pain.
Groaning, I push up on my battered hands, then gasp when I realize I’m on top of damp dirt. I scramble upward, hands shaking as I stare down at the clumps of soil on them, then look up. I can’t believe it. I’m here again—in the forest from my nightmares.
My breathing becomes shallow as I spin to look all around me. I’m surrounded by the same skyscraper trees that give no light or leeway, and there’s nothing in view for miles. I have the urge to walk, but where the hell am I supposed to go? Which way? What do I do?
My eyes drop to the dirt path below me that runs from left to right. If I follow it, maybe I’ll find out where I am.
I start walking to the right, telling myself this isn’t real. I’m dreaming again, that’s all. I got really fucking high and now I’m dreaming.
“Wake the fuck up, Willow,” I whisper. “Wake up. Wake up.” But the words are useless. And perhaps this isn’t a dream because my shin is burning. It’s a pain I’ve never felt before, and it causes me to stop walking. I lower into a squat, yanking up my pajama pants to check my shin, and there’s a large gash. It’s not deep, but there’s blood dripping down to my bare foot.