Influenced Eva Robinson (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📖

taken in the sun a few days ago. Everyone was still shouting around her—Hannah’s screams were a distraction. But Rowan had to stay focused, for both their sakes. Hannah would understand at some point.

Rowan was screaming into her phone.

“Last week, we did something terrible. I don’t know how he died, but I helped cover it up because I was scared of what people would say, because I hear all your voices around me, noticing everything. And you’d think I murdered him. I didn’t, but we dragged his body—”

But the shouting ripped through her thoughts. Hannah wanted her to stop.

A sharp blow splintered the back of her head, and pain shot through her skull.

Stunned with the blinding pain, she stared out across the garden. The hit from behind had been a pure shock to her system, robbing her of rational thought. Vaguely, she wondered if she was ruining the party somehow.

She opened her mouth to scream, but she wasn’t sure if she was making a sound.

Gripping the railing, she tried to make sense of the world around her. A labyrinthine garden sprawled out beneath the old wooden deck. It stretched all the way to Fresh Pond, where dark water glittered in the distance. It should be peaceful here, but pain was ripping her head open. Someone screamed.

Only now did she realize she’d dropped her phone onto the gravel path two stories below. It lay there, shattered.

Was she screaming, or was it someone else?

She nearly lost her balance over the railing, and she gripped it harder. The feel of the rough wood sharpened her senses, and her thoughts crystallized.

Her friend wanted to kill her.

And if she didn’t get away right now, if she didn’t flee from this old mansion, she would die. Right here, right now, her blood on the stones.

But before she could turn to run, thin fingers gripped her shoulders, so hard that they were digging into her flesh.

Run, run, run.

Her blood roared in her ears.

“Wait—” she cried out, but the word came out garbled.

A sharp, angry shove pushed her forward, and she flew over the edge of the railing, wind whipping over her. The rush of the fall sent panic exploding in her mind.

A single thought rang out, everything else falling away.

I don’t want to die.

When she hit the path, pain rocketed through her bones, through her head. She couldn’t breathe…

I don’t want to die.

But she couldn’t feel her legs anymore, couldn’t move them. She felt only the shattering pain in her head, in her ribs, her arms. When she sucked in a breath, it was like a knife had pierced her lungs.

On the gravel path, she tried to pull herself forward, fingers digging in between the little rocks. An agonized grunt escaped her, an inhuman noise as she inched forward. Her legs weren’t working, but her fingers, her arms could pull…

Fractured with pain, her head lolled forward.

She couldn’t do it. Her body wasn’t working properly, and the pain was too much.

Quiet. Be very quiet, and maybe they won’t find you.

Someone still screamed above, shouting her name. Warm blood dripped from her ears, her nose… What if they thought she was dead? Maybe they’d leave her here.

How could she be quiet when her breath was so loud?

Quiet like a mouse. That was what her teacher had said long ago, when they’d hide behind bookshelves or under desks. The lockdown drills had scared her so much back then, when the principal would walk through the halls with the bullhorn. He’d pretend to be the killer. They’d hide from the bad man, listening only to the sound of breathing, arms wrapped around knees, eyes closed. Dark rooms and death stalking the halls. Quiet like a mouse. That was how you survived. If you couldn’t run, you hid in the dark and hoped he never found you.

But death wouldn’t come in the form of a strange man stalking the halls. It was coming from a friend on a Georgian deck surrounded by fairy lights and colored lanterns.

She just had to block out the pain and hide in the shadows. Maybe someone would come for her when her friends left.

She lifted her head a little, her gaze catching on the little gold bracelet. The fleur-de-lis charm glinted in the moonlight, engraved with S&O ‘09, and her thoughts started to drift back to the past. She’d known from day she got it, in high school, that she’d never take it off. It marked her out as a member of an elite tribe. She’d been destined for great things.

The sound of screaming pulled her back to the present, to the danger.

Did her friends know she was still alive down here? Should she be quiet, or try to move?

Something was wrong with both of her arms. The sound of a river rushed in her ears. For a dazed moment, she thought of her mom.

No, it wasn’t her mom she wanted…

It was Marc. Always Marc.

Maybe she should try to pull herself forward again, so she could see him. Maybe she could get to him if she could move. But shadows filled her mind.

At least the voices are all gone now, she thought, then everything went silent.

Forty-One

Luke’s hand was clamped tight over Hannah’s mouth, and one of his arms pinned hers to her sides. She screamed into his fingers, terror racing through her brain.

Stella had just attacked Rowan, pushing her off the balcony, and they were going to kill Hannah next.

She had peered over the edge, and then she’d just started screaming. Rowan was still moving down there. Blood spilled on the gravel, and Rowan made the most disturbing, inhuman noises Hannah had ever heard as she tried to pull herself forward. Hannah couldn’t stop herself from screaming and screaming.

And now Luke had a tight grip on Hannah, trying to shut her up.

Frantically, she tried to bring to mind something from the self-defense class she’d taken in high school. Something about shins… She couldn’t remember.

Instead, she bit Luke’s fingers as hard as she could. He barked a