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HYPNOTIC, VOL I!
ELEVEN, "IN THIS BED I LAY"
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Something isn't right here.
Violet sits at the counter, eyes scanning both of her hands. Shaking beneath her, she flips them over so her palms are up. Little red crescents occupy them, sensitive to the touch. It tells her she'd dug her nails there at some point recently, but she can't recall when it happened. It's like she'd etched her own fear into the palms of her hands, creating her own sense of devastation that she no doubt must've been feeling. Her own reminder of it.
She remembers a lot of last night – of how Billy was acting, of how he was begging for her help, of how that little girl could move things (people) with her own mind. There's also things she doesn't remember, though.
Not like she can remember what they are. She just knows there's something. Little gaps in her head when she thinks about it. That's the whole point, she guesses – to not remember the events. It's like her brain is shutting them out. Once the room went dark...so did her brain. Like it purposely locked the memories away so she couldn't recall them.
A shaky hand lands on the back of her neck, sweat coating her fingertips when she does so.
Something really isn't right here.
Closing her eyes, she envelopes herself in darkness. Like closing a scene, everything fades to black – a curtain falling in front of her eyes. And there's this pretty boy – sleek skin, sweat dripping down his face, shoulder-length curly hair. He's on the ground in front of her, writhing in pain on the cold, hard surface. This pretty boy, looking rotten and writhing and twisting and turning on that same floor.
A chill slides down her spine, making her straighten in her seat. It's like the more her brain tries to remember the events from the night before, the more it tries to fight back – to keep her out of it.
Something seriously isn't –
"– right here?"
Violet freezes, her heart twisting as she opens her eyes. "What?"
