The next day is strange.
Well, every damn day with these people is strange.
But the next day is even stranger.
Dr. Reeves or whatever his na is cos back, but this ti he doesn’t even look at Jim. No words are spoken.
Blood pressure. Temperature. A strange contraption I have to blow into, but I have no idea what it does. Whatever it asures, he scribbles the information down.
Then he’s gone again.
Jim’s been quiet, too, but that’s the least strange thing about the day. He’s always been one to spend most of the day pretending to sleep. This ti, he sits in a chair beside my bed, staring at the door.
Like he’s waiting for soone to arrive.
My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I didn’t eat yesterday. No food today, either. At least I’m not tied down anymore. Small rcies, I suppose.
Hours crawl by, marked only by the steady tick of a clock—if there was one in my room. There isn’t, of course. Only the slow change in the length of the shadows and quality of light coming through the window.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
"What are you doing?"
Jim’s gaze flicks to briefly before returning to the door. "Making sure they don’t bother you."
"They? Who’s they? Dr. Eliana? Dr. Reeves?" No one else has co into the room.
He turns to face fully. "You really can’t see them?"
Before I can respond, a loud clatter echoes from the bathroom. I jump a little, my heart pounding at the unexpected noise.
Jim’s eyebrow arches, and I swear it’s a silent challenge.
Giving him a strange look—because there’s no one here, clearly—I slide off the bed to check inside the bathroom.
The toilet lid is closed. It wasn’t before. The soap dispenser lies on the floor, its contents slowly oozing onto the tile. But it isn’t next to the sink or anything. It’s all the way across the floor.
"What the hell?"
But, hey, sotis stuff falls. Right?
Trying to ignore the strange itching behind my shoulder blades, the sa feeling I get when I watch one too many scary movies at night alone, I head back to my bed.
But sothing’s not right. The pillow. Where’s my pillow? I spin to face Jim, anger montarily overpowering my fear.
"What are you doing?" I demand, fists clenching at my sides.
Jim shakes his head slowly, his expression maddeningly calm. "It’s not . You should know this. Why can’t you see them, Nicole?"
My soul cringes. If he’s trying to tell there are invisible people in this room... Yeah. No. "See who? There’s no one here but us!"
"Are you sure about that?" His eyes dart around the room, following sothing I can’t perceive. "They seem to think you’re bored and in need of company."
"Is this so kind of sick joke? So twisted mind ga?"
"They’re everywhere," he says, turning his attention back to the door. "But you can always ask them to leave. Most of them are waiting for permission."
"Who?"
Jim’s exasperated look only fuels my frustration. What ga is he playing? I drop to my knees, peering under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies and cold tile floor. I check in the drawers and cabinets on the far side of the room, even inside the bathroom again.
My pillow has vanished into thin air.
"This isn’t funny, Jim. Where did you hide it?"
He doesn’t answer, his eyes once again darting around the room as if following invisible dancers. His lip quirks.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spin around, half-expecting to catch soone in the act of... what? Stealing pillows?
My breath catches in my throat. There, sitting innocently atop my rumpled sheets, is my pillow. Right where it should be. Right where it wasn’t a mont ago.
"What the hell?" I mutter, reaching out to touch it. It’s solid, real. "How did you—"
I shake my head, trying to clear the confusion and fear. He’s trying to scare . Whatever he’s doing must be a trick or talent with whatever magic he has. Silly of to get caught up in it, to let him get under my skin.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Determined to regain so semblance of control, I crawl back into the bed. The sheets feel cool against my skin as I pull the blanket up to my chin. I close my eyes, willing sleep to co and carry away from this nightmare.
Every so often, sothing tugs at my blanket, and I just pull it over again. Jim seems dedicated to whatever strange ga he’s playing with my ntal health.
Eventually, boredom wins out, and I drift off.
The dream cos suddenly, vivid and intense. Logan stands before , his face etched with worry. His lips move, forming my na, but no sound reaches . The silence is eerie, oppressive.
He reaches out, his hand extended toward . Without hesitation, I reach back. Our fingers touch, and a jolt of electricity seems to pass between us. The world flickers, like a faulty light bulb, and suddenly I can hear him.
"Nicole! Are you okay? Where are you?" His voice is urgent, tinged with fear and relief.
This feels too real to be just a dream, but I don’t have any talents in dreamwalking. "I don’t know exactly. So kind of room. There are strange people here. A doctor nad Eliana Moon. Another one nad Dr. Reeves. My kidnapper. He pretended to be a firefighter and drugged with chloroform. He says his na is Jim."
As I speak, I notice Logan’s form beginning to fade, becoming translucent around the edges. Panic grips .
"Logan, don’t go!" I cry out, trying to tighten my grip on his hand, but it’s like grasping at smoke.
He says sothing, but his voice is garbled, fading in and out like a bad radio signal. I strain to catch his words, but only the last few co through clearly before he disappears entirely.
"...be there soon."
I jerk awake, my heart pounding in my ears like a roaring waterfall. Sweat drenches my skin.
The room is exactly as it was before, Jim still seated in his chair, watching the door.
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