It was so weird.
“Aaliyah?” I whispered.
My eyebrows drew together as I blinked, fear trickling through me. It tightened my chest further until it became painful enough that I wanted to puke.
Why couldn’t I remember what happened before I came here?
Things were slipping away from me.
If this wasn’t a dream, why did everything look so different?
Who did I hear that made me open my eyes? I couldn’t remember their voice...
Another soft groan came from the direction of the master bedroom, bringing my attention back to it.
My breath hitched, making me look down at myself. I raised my hand, brushing my fingers on my chest. I barely felt the soft cotton of the loose black shirt I wore. My coloring was off too, and every breath I took wasn’t right either. Somewhere in me, I knew I wasn’t taking in air, rather, I was going through the motions and still had the sensations of breathing.
Every breath and heartbeat was an echo of what it was like.
My mind lagged, and I tried to process it. I knew it was something to concern me, something for me to freak out about. But my reactions were slower...
What was happening?
Moving one foot in front of the other, I slowly made my way down the hallway, frustrated with the time it took. Walking felt like I was in a nightmare running from the murderer, to feel weighed down and unable to walk faster than a snail’s pace.
“Aaliyah?” I said, tongue heavy and thick, my words barely heard as I approached the doorway.
Something loud cracked in the room behind the closed bedroom door. The same crack I heard before but couldn’t quite place it.
What did it remind me of?
I pressed a hand on the cool, white door and pushed it open with a drawn-out creak that rang through my head. The sound echoed and spun my head at a dizzying speed like I had drunk too much and was trying to sleep it off. With it, the pain in my chest throbbed, starting small but growing until I couldn’t breathe. As much as it was a sensation, I thought I was suffocating.
There was another horrible crack and a breathy groan.
Gasping for breaths and swallowing down the bile that rose in my throat, I opened the door, frozen in my spot as I stared at the scene with wide eyes.
“What...” I whispered, a broken cry bubbling in my throbbing chest.
I gagged, my hand flying to my mouth.
I remembered now.
Swallowing down my screams, I forced myself to move and stumbled toward the man who had bashed my friend’s skull in. And he was still doing it, holding her head with his huge hand like a basketball and bouncing it off the wall with each slam.
“Let her go!” I shrieked, running to them as fast as I could—which, to my horror, wasn’t fast at all.
Twisting in his spot, he glared at me with his darker eyes that were different now. They were glassy, like the dead woman’s eyes I killed with a dagger in her throat. Just like the man’s while I held his hand and comforted him. He called me beautiful, and I passed it off, thinking his brain was firing off chemicals. He saw Death.
Glowing ice-blue eyes popped into my head, and large black wings expanded that folded in behind the Angel of Death.
The man who killed me kept his fisted hold on Aaliyah’s head; her hair was soaked with blood. He kept her where he wanted her and never slackened his hold. A large, bloody gash was across his neck that wasn’t there when I last saw him.
The memory of Rune’s hands grabbing this man from behind, slitting his throat, causing him to let go of me. Then the sound of a wet and loud thump of Rune’s sword coming down on him, which I knew decapitated him.
My stomach churned, which was an echo of it instead of the full sensation. But it was enough to make me sick and for my head to get light-headed.
The killer shoved Aaliyah off to the side as he turned more toward me, his lips moving, but no sound came from him. My eyes followed my friend as she was carelessly tossed, her limp body on the ground. I waited for her to move. Waited for her to say something, make a sound... anything.
