Sparrow Lane
After
"Elena wanted to leave, but she couldn't. The house wouldn't let her."
Dr. Stanford raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Max? That's an uncommon way to phrase something like that."
"It didn't want her to leave," I answer irritably. "The door slammed shut."
Lydia scribbles something down, then glances at the clock on her desk. I feel like I've been talking for hours, I'm so tired.
"We can continue this another time," she says, as if sensing my mood. "Is that okay with you?"
I nod, stand, and am out the door before she can say another word.
The rec room is empty, so I sit on the couch and close my eyes. I don't want to be in my room right now.
"Hey, Max," a voice says.
I crack an eye open and look at the person across the room. They're sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and hands in their lap. They're trying to cover something up, and I have to squint to see what it is. But when the smell hits me, I know.
It's metallic, nauseating.
My insides turns over.
"You look sick," he tells me. "Almost like you've seen a ghost."
Then Dom smiles, and shifts so I see the blood pooling out of his stomach. It slides down his pants, and I can't look at him anymore.
"What—why—" I gasp, but I can't finish my thought.
I lean over and throw up.
Dr. Stanford raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Max? That's an uncommon way to phrase something like that."
"It didn't want her to leave," I answer irritably. "The door slammed shut."
Lydia scribbles something down, then glances at the clock on her desk. I feel like I've been talking for hours, I'm so tired.
"We can continue this another time," she says, as if sensing my mood. "Is that okay with you?"
I nod, stand, and am out the door before she can say another word.
**
The rec room is empty, so I sit on the couch and close my eyes. I don't want to be in my room right now.
"Hey, Max," a voice says.
I crack an eye open and look at the person across the room. They're sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and hands in their lap. They're trying to cover something up, and I have to squint to see what it is. But when the smell hits me, I know.
It's metallic, nauseating.
My insides turns over.
"You look sick," he tells me. "Almost like you've seen a ghost."
Then Dom smiles, and shifts so I see the blood pooling out of his stomach. It slides down his pants, and I can't look at him anymore.
"What—why—" I gasp, but I can't finish my thought.
I lean over and throw up.