“Hello!” I call out and my voice echoes back to me. There’s a bang from somewhere but no one responds. I try again. “Who’s in here?” Again, recollection sparks in my brain. Déjà vu. But it’s like there’s a wall, blocking me from connecting all the dots. “Lily, are you doing this?” I whisper under my breath.
The only response I get is maddening silence. And the humming. I know I heard a voice. Someone has to be watching me in the darkness. But who? And where am I? I can barely remember a single thing about last night. The ceiling lights of the bar flashing… they hurt my eyes... watching people dance... I drank way too much, which is probably why my throat’s still dry and my head feels like it’s in a fishbowl. I also wasn’t alone. I saw Bella I think… yeah, I can picture her laughing, her drunken laugh too. There was also someone else… a guy. River? I can’t quite see his face in my memories. A shadow. Like everything else.
Feeling my way across the floor, I scoot forward on my ass, my limbs and muscles aching in protest. The floor feels like chilled metal and stings at my palms so badly my skin feels like it’s tearing open. I keep going until the tips of my fingers brush against the edge of a frosted surface. I pause, listening for the person whose voice woke me up, but all I can hear is humming. But the feeling is there inside me, the haunting sensation that I’m being watched. Like when I’m in my room and the photos of my past feel like they’re watching my every move.
“I know you’re in here, so you might as well say something you fucking weirdo,” I call out. Again, no one replies.
What I need to do is get to my feet. Tucking my legs under me, I slide my fingers up the surface, slivers of frost falling off. I manage to stand up, my knees weak beneath my weight, unsteady, just like the rest of my body and my mind. Thoughts of where I could be race through my mind. Claustrophobia sets in. I’ve never experienced it in the last six years, but the thickness of the darkness suddenly feels like it’s smothering me… I’ve felt this way before… a long time ago… I can almost feel…
Let me out! Let me out! God, please let me out! I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.
Only if you do what I say.
A door slams shut in my head, locking out the memory and causing me to jerk back. I need to get out of here. Now. There’s got to be a way out of here and a light switch somewhere. Trying to stay calm, I feel my way across the wall, gradually inching sideways. It’s strange how hyperaware I am of everything, how it feels like I know exactly what to do to find my way out of the darkness and this frosted, cold as ice, room. My instincts take over and with calculated steps, I move my way around the dark carefully. Whenever my foot or hand brushes against something, I instantly stop and slowly maneuver around it without getting hurt. My eyes stop hurting. I feel more comfortable with each step.
A few steps more and my fingers graze against a metal handle. “Yes,” I whisper as I pull the handle down and shove the door open. Breathing in the light and warm air, I stumble out and spin around to see where I was. Shelves with frozen food fill the small area and a light mist from the cold swirls around in the light. A freezer. I was in the freezer at the bar, but that’s not the most startling thing about the situation. There’s no one else in there. It doesn’t make sense. I heard a voice. It’s what woke me up.
Are you sure it wasn’t just another voice inside your head? Lily’s voice is so clear, so loud and unannounced that I jolt back in surprise and bump my elbow into the wall.
I shut my eyes and try to force my mind to remember what happened. The sequence of events that led me to this moment. But the harder I try, the more distorted everything becomes. Lights... Blinding lights… music… drinks… blood on my hands…suddenly the doors in my mind are slamming shut with so much force I fall down on the floor. Pain soars through my body and my eyes shoot open as I sit up. That’s when I notice the blood. Dried on my skin, it covers the back of my arms, cracked and peeling, like grimy sand.
“Oh my God… what did you do?” My stomach burns, fire, melting me from the inside and works its way up my throat. I jump to my feet, bolt out of the back area and run down the hallway to the private restroom. Then I collapse to my knees onto the hard tile floor, my head tipping forward as vomit purges from my mouth. My stomach empties out the tequila and whatever else I had last night. Exhausted, I flush the toilet, quickly stand up and start scrubbing the blood off my arms in the sink, in a panic, tears stinging at my eyes.
Keep it together. Don’t lose it.
There are no visible cuts anywhere, so I don’t think it’s my blood. It’s so caked on that I have to scratch at my skin to get it off and by the time I’m done, I am bleeding in certain spots on my arm. I feel like shit, my stomach churning again, worse than when getting drunk. My legs give out on me and I sink onto the floor, letting my head fall back against the wall as tears stream out of my eyes. I’ve been drunk before, had killer hangovers, but this feels different. I feel overwhelmingly sick. Time lost. My mind spinning. And the worst part is, I have no idea what I did for almost the entire night. But the ideas are there. All those times, pondering people’s murders. What if I… we…
“God, Lily, why?” I whisper in horror. Whatever happened, had to be her. It just had to be. And now I’m the one that’s going to have to pay for it.
“Maddie.”
For a second, I think I’m losing it, hearing yet another voice. But feeling the presence of another in the doorway, I collect myself and turn my head to the side and find River. He’s still wearing the same clothes from the last time I saw him, only wrinkled and his dark hair is disheveled. He’s also giving me a horrified look, his gazed fastened on my arms.
“Jesus.” He rushes into the bathroom, his eyes widening even more as he sees the bloody paper towels all over the floor. “What the hell happened to you?”
“You tell me,” I say in a hoarse voice, staring down at my arms. “Because I have no idea what went on pretty much after I left your office.” As soon as I say it aloud, a voice inside my head screams at me to keep my mouth shut. I want to shout back at the voice and tell it to fuck off, but the burning sensations on my arm from where I scrubbed the blood off makes me keep my lips sealed.
He glances around at the bathroom, which reeks of vomit, then grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser near the sink. Crouching down beside me, he hands me the towels and I dab my mouth off with them while he takes hold of my arm and examines it.
“Where did this come from?” he asks, delicately rubbing his thumb across a bloody spot on my wrist.
“I had stuff on my arm and I scrubbed a little too hard cleaning it off.” I slip my arm from his hand and put it to my side, his touch making me feel distant and cold. “God, I feel like shit and the really shitty part is I can’t even remember what I did to feel this way.”
He watches me intently as if he’s seeking a sign that I’m lying to him while I clean my face off with the paper towel. “You really don’t remember last night at all?” he questions with skepticism.
I shake my head, balling the paper towel up in my hand. “I really don’t, so it would be great if you would enlighten me as to what the hell happened.” I’m aiming for the fake light tone, but fail miserably.
He takes the paper towel from me and chucks it into the trashcan. “I’m not really sure where the blood came from… All I can remember is you and Bella talked. Drank. Did all that lovely stuff you do, although I think you got a lot more intoxicated than you normally do.” He scratches his head. “After about your eighth shot, I sort of lost track of you in the crowd.”