8 | Crimson

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The light explodes through the curtains, blinding me.

My ears ring in the silence. I hold the bedsheets close to my neck. Heat bubbles around me.

I can't sleep without having nightmares. I haven't eaten since yesterday.

My leg is caught in the comforter. I kick and squirm, wrestling my way out. I can barely see. Pressing my hand to my wrist, my phone flickers to life.

Connecting to available networks. Please wait...

A piercing sound shoots through the hallway. My heartbeat thuds and thuds.

"Nina!" The voice is muffled. Out of reach.

I squint at my hologram screen, but the words blend together.

"Nina!" The insistence grows to urgency.

A crash. The steady rhythm of footsteps against the floor.

The shadowy figure steps into my room. Lifts a hand to block out the red, getting brighter and brighter, warmer and warmer. Lifts a hand to hold me upright.

"Come on. Not yet. It's not here yet," the quiet, hushed voice says. With a jolt to my chest like fire, I realize it sounds familiar. "Come on, Nina. Please."

Through my crusted eyes, I see crimson, and the blurred outline of my brother. He is panting, struggling to take in enough air to breathe.

Pulling my limp body into his grasp, he begins to run.

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