I’ve screamed plenty of times in my life—whether it was from fighting with kids at school, cheering for my favorite hockey team, or waking up from nightmares that sent me running to my parents. But this? This is different.
Panic and fear grip me so tightly that the world around me blurs, leaving behind everything but a single, consuming thought: I have to signal for help or somehow get the intruder to leave my best friend alone.
The latter comes first.
I unleash another earth-shattering scream. The dark silhouette hurtles across the room as if struck by an unseen force, crashing into the wall with a bone-rattling thud. A pained hiss escapes as they struggle to rise while the entire room is quaking.
“Stop screaming, damned child!” The voice that comes out of him is inhuman—cold, hollow,
