Chapter Twenty-Two

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It's cold. Not the type of cold that makes you shiver or chatter your teeth until they ache. Not the type of cold that makes you wish for a hot fireplace or stabs at your legs until you can't stand.

This is an empty sort of cold. A haunting, gloomy chill that freezes my bones into icicles and prevents me from moving. My eyelids are heavy - as if I'm going to fall asleep any second now - and I battle to keep them open. I'm standing in the middle of a vast football field, with deserted bleachers and lights casting dancing shadows onto the ground. My body is there, but I can't move them. I'm conscious, but I have no control.

Killian.

I half expect him to come jumping out of thin air and laughing cruelly at me like he manages to do so perfectly, but when nothing happens, fear creeps into my veins and freezes my blood. I don't know why he's chosen to show me a vision after all this time of nothing, but Killian likes his games.

And when this is done, I know that something new will be in store already.

Suddenly, I feel something sharp slide across my skin, and gurgles escape my throat. Confusion settles in, and I touch my neck hesitantly. It's covered with dark splatters of blood.

I squint my eyes as the blood disappears from my skin and a clean surface replaces is it. Suddenly, a hot agony brings me to my knees and I reach my hands around my throat, feeling the air leave it and pressure building up. I gasp for air and let out inhuman sounds as black spots block my vision. I welcome the darkness with gratitude.

"Cami!? Wake up, honey!"

I don't realise that I'm screaming until my eyes fly open and I hear my own voice tearing through the silence in pain.

"Camilla, it's okay sweetheart, it was just a nightmare."

Mum's soothing voice fills me with slight relief as she strokes my hair plastered to my forehead. I shake my head violently and she continues to 'shh' me and reassure me.

"No, no-

-Cami it's alright-

-It wasn't a nightmare Mum." I say abruptly, sitting upright so that her hand falls from my face. "You wouldn't understand."

Something flickers across her features but she forces a smile, standing up and saying a quick 'goodnight' before shutting the door behind her. I fall back on to my pillow and struggle to find a comfortable position as bits and pieces of the vision fill my mind.

It must mean something; they have always meant something in one way or another. Killian likes to mix me up in his twisted games, and there never seems to be an end to his torture. In visions, it's as if I'm his puppet, and he even manages to pull the strings when I'm conscious. It's disturbing, and annoying as hell.

A faint crash pulls me from my thoughts and I let out a sigh of submission, deciding to chase the sleep away. There's no way I'll risk him implanting my mind with another gory vision during my sleep anyway.

I rise from my bed and slide my feet into my beloved rudolf the red-nose reindeer slippers, muttering in annoyance when a little bell sound tingles every time I take a step. I make my way down the stairs, careful as to not make the floorboards creak too much under my slipper. When I reach the bottom, the open plan room is jet black, minus the digital numbers on the coffee machine in the kitchen indicating 4:50 AM, and casting red shadows onto the counters. I squint my eyes to adjust to the darkness and make my way through the living room and then the dining area, careful not to slam into any furniture and wake up the whole household.

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