NECROMANTIC

twelve.

“Sarah, wait!”

I ignored Rob’s plea. I ignored everything – the ghost, face twisted in cruel pleasure, a silent cackle, before she returned back to her previous position, facing the wall, hands cupping her face as if in sorrow, Mae, who’d gone white as a sheet, mouth hanging open and occasionally snapping shut making her look like a goldfish, I ignored all the dead I passed as I ran from the room, down the corridor, hurtled down the stairs, having to grip the rail to prevent myself from going head over heels. The ghost we’d passed before was there again, and in my haste, I accidentally walked right through her – making me scream again, my throat raw and painful. I waved my hands in front of my face, trying to rid myself of the cold, dreadful feeling passing through her had given me – the only thing I can thing to compare the sensation to was when you accidentally walk into a spiders web. And of course, because I’d taken my hand off the railing – I tumbled down the remaining three steps, landing hard on my knee, and sending a jolt of pain through me that joined with the pounding at the back of my skull.

“Sarah, please, just stop, you’ve hurt yourself!” I could hear Rob behind me, slightly breathless as he chased after me, feet pounding on the stairwell to catch up.

I didn’t reply, pushing myself to my feet, just missing the hand he was going to put on my upper arm, and I began to run again, ignoring the complaint in my knee, that would definitely sport a bruise later. I ran through the way we’d come in, closing my eyes and ignoring the countless dead, running through several, pushing the nausea aside to keep on going, focused on getting out.

I ran all the way out, pushing myself through the hole in the fence, a stray, jagged end of one of the cut wires digging in and scraping my cheek, drawing a line of blood, a droplet running down, feeling like one of the tears my body was too traumatised to produce. I ran out of the Sisters just like I’d ran out of that hospital my aunt had had her baby in all those years back.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah, would you please stop.”

I finally listened to my boyfriend, coming to a standstill, wrapping my arms around myself, doubling over as a monstrous stitch hit me, and I was suddenly hyper aware of how sore everything was. My throat, my knee, the back of my head, my cheek. And it wasn’t just one kind of pain – some was dull, a throb, and others were stinging and sharp. All demanded attention – but none as much as the trauma ripping my insides apart.

“Oh my god, Sarah, I…” Rob was just behind me, and I could tell he hesitated before he put a cautious hand on my shoulder, and that hurt, too. “What the hell?”

And that’s when I broke. When the tears came, spilling down my cheeks, and I gasped, sucking in deep, shaky breaths, unable to breath as the panic attack gripped me, and my hands moved up to my chest, and I clutched it, feeling myself pitching forward. Of course, Rob caught me before I did, and I wasn’t sure if his embrace was a hug, comforting, or just to keep me on my feet. Probably the last one. Last thing anyone would want was me landing on my face and adding a broken nose into the mix.

“What the hell.” He repeated, but this time he didn’t word it like a question, but a summary of what had just happened.

“I – I wanna go – go home. Rob, I wanna go home.” I choked out between my sobs, sounding utterly pathetic.

“Ssh,” he said softly, one hand on my back, holding me to him, the other cupping the back of my head – which hurt, but I didn’t dare say anything – and he gently guided my head to rest on his shoulder, before stroking my hair.

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna cry all over your jacket.” I blubbered.

“That’s the least of the problem.” He said, and though the way he’d said it was gentle, I could pick out the accusation behind it. I’d freaked out, for seemingly no reason, and had run away from him like a crazy person, and I hadn’t told him why.