VANISHED (#1 in the VANISHED series) #NaNoWriMo2019 ✔

t w e n t y - t w o ✔

Nope.

Despite the violent shivers charging up and down her legs, Arielle ran. Bolted past the door, turned right, scrammed halfway down the balcony corridor before realizing she'd hit a dead-end—the stairs were the other way.

With how her insides had liquefied and her bladder struggled to contain her fear, she had a hard time reversing her strides and hurrying the other way. And she was still unsure how she'd actually get out, since the door was locked. But she'd have to figure that out one step at a time; her priority was to get down the stairs.

But when she arrived at the banister, reaching out to grab it, a whooshing breeze jammed into her. It shoved her away, towards the room she'd exited.

"Nope, nope, nope," she yelled as she worked to swerve past the breeze—or under or through, she had no clue—and race down the stairs. But again it threw her off.

Groaning, holding in the urge to claw at the air in the hopes of somehow moving this thing out of her path, it became apparent she'd have to wait for Penny to be distracted by something or someone else before she'd get a chance to rush downstairs.

"Fine, fine! Get away from me!" She ducked and gathered the last remnants of her strength to hustle to the room by the stairs and squeeze inside.

She slammed the door behind her, wheezing, her lungs so tight and painful she saw black dots and stars forming before her. Her vision became so blurry shadowy shapes swirled in her eyes.

"Shit, shit, shit." This dwelling, like the former, was bare. Its windows allowed in moonlight, but it didn't make the area any less uncomfortable. A slitted, closet-like door loomed ahead of her, and on some weird whim she couldn't understand, she raced to it, heaved it open, and hid inside the tiny space.

A plastic hanger dangled from the rusty rack above, and debris she couldn't identify covered the floor. But she had no strength to remain standing any longer. So she fell into a huddle, her back pressed against the wall, her nose sliding between her knees. Her breaths came out foggy, glacial, and she couldn't stop her teeth from clattering.

Fuck.

If this was still a dream, it had turned into something she hoped to forget when she woke. Too real, too intense, too troubling.

Floorboards creaked somewhere ahead—not in the room, but close, possibly on the main landing, near the balcony. Refraining from gasping, Arielle stuffed her mouth against her knees and muffled her whistling breaths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Now would have been a great time to wake up, to understand it was another nightmare, albeit gloomily realistic. Every sensation she experienced knotted in her guts and twisted them, pulled at them, banged at the linings of her stomach. Seething, she waited for the nearby squeaking noise to cease, and she redressed herself and pinched her forearm.

Wake up... please, wake up.

Once, twice, three times for good measure—but nothing happened. She didn't open her eyes to find herself lounging in a bed, screaming, Stella atop an adjacent mattress staring at her in concern. Nor did she experience any relief, any lessening tension, any sense that everything would be okay.

Because this house, the spirit tormenting her, the breezes and creaks and creepy messages on mirrors—they were happening. For real.

Penny...

Penny brought her here and seemed adamant on making her lose her wits.

For the millionth time that night, she chided herself for being such an idiot, for not listening to Stella's warnings. Penny was a diabolical ghost; she had malicious intent from the start, and Stella knew it. But Arielle... ignored her and chose to pursue her mission, nonetheless. To press onward, to get answers, to locate and save Jade from whatever limbo-like hell she was stuck in, and to understand why everyone she loved had to die.