I scooch off the bed quickly, not knowing what to do other than to channel my father. So, I hit the side of the box a couple of times.
“Work ... if evil Hannah chooses Rick, Paul might go feral and marry good Hannah.”
I squeal when it starts working again, but it only lasts for a second before the sound transforms into my favorite sleep track—white noise—and the picture stays a grainy black and white.
“Come on. How did people live like this?”
A sigh spills out, my soap opera disappointment heavily apparent, before I turn back to the bed to grab the giant remote, hoping a button on there can fix this problem.
But as I do, the faintest sound of a whimper—no, not a whimper, but like a distant cry—fills the room. It stops me in my tracks, my brows drawn together as I immediately look around, wondering what the hell it is.
No sooner do I wonder than I hear it again.
Is it coming from outside? I walk toward the cabin wall and press my ear to it, feeling as sketched out as I probably look, but that’s when I hear the voice.
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep ...”
“What the fuck.” I turn my head in slow motion over my shoulder to the fucking television as my heart starts beating out of my chest. “Ohhh, no, no, no, no, no. We are not doing this.”
I’m already grabbing my shoes, hopping as I put them on my feet, when I hear, “Mommy, can you hear me? It’s Carol Anne. I’m scared,” before a demonic screeching bursts from the TV speakers.
I was never a runner in high school; in fact, I never had any aspirations to become athletic. But today I’m winning an Olympic gold for fastest sprint away from a haunted fucking television.
I’m yelling incoherent words as I burst from the room, chills running down my spine, only to skid to a stop because my sister and her colleagues are standing out in front of me with smiles plastered to their faces.
Someone’s dying today.
I reach down and take off my shoe, watching everyone scatter as I chuck it directly at my sister.
She scream-laughs as I jump up and down, shaking out my arms, before I stab my finger toward the open door of my cabin.
“Someone get that goddamn television out of my room. Now ... right now.”
Evie’s boss is almost doubled over as he hands her a hundred-dollar bill. She winks at me. “I told you she’s never seenPoltergeist.”
“I am officially trading you in for a better model when we get home,” I yell at her before storming back toward the room, only jumping out of the way as they roll the television by me before I slam the door behind me.
I am so glad we are leaving today.
Noah
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Chase is walking down his stoop, looking like a contract killer trying to blend into a crowd.
He stops in his place and holds open the jacket like he’s modeling it. “Dude, I’m incognito.”
I scoff. “Not even a little. You look wildly suspicious.”
He looks behind him as if I’m speaking to someone else. “What are you talking about? No, I don’t. The hat ... the black trench and glasses are making it so I’m not suspicious. And also so that nobody recognizes me.”
Why did I tell him about the text? What was I thinking? I should’ve left him here. I cross my arms, staring at him.
“Do you get that a lot ... people finding you unforgettable? Or maybe unable to place how they know you?” I wave my hand aggressively in front of his white work van that has the name of his restaurant on the side. “Just get in.”
He drags his sunglasses down his face as he walks toward the passenger door. “Jesus. Okay. A girl breaks your heart and someone tries to kill you, but all you want to do is hurtmyfeelings? Weird choice, but I forgive you.”
I can’t with him today. “We deserve to die,” I grit out as I walk around to the driver’s side.
