Subdue-X

My Mirage

My feet had their own plan, stumbling blindly in the darkness. I tripped over bodies—or maybe they were just shapes my mind conjured—fingers tugging at my legs, trying to drag me into the ground. The grip on Christian’s hand slipped from mine moments ago, lost in the chaos. Everyone around me looked the same, shadowy figures blurring together. But I couldn’t mistake Specter. He was always there, circling me like a predator, never too close, but never far enough away.

My legs felt like they were moving through molasses, fighting against an invisible current as I desperately tried to find Chris. The corn stalks towered over me, the maze spinning around, suffocating me in its endless twists and turns.

Then, arms—real, solid arms—wrapped around my torso, shoving me forward. My heart lurched in my chest. For a split second, I thought I was safe, but the grip was too rough, too forceful. Chris’s voice shouted from somewhere around me, his tone frantic, unlike anything I had ever heard before. Panic exploded in my chest, tightening my throat.

The hand pressed firmly between my shoulder blades pushed harder, forcing me to run. The corn tore at my skin, leaving stinging lacerations across my exposed arms. A sharp, searing pain shot through my shoulder, radiating down my arm, as if someone had injected me with a needle and pulled it out just as quickly, leaving behind a cold, throbbing ache. Perhaps someone did.

“Chris!” I tried to scream, but the air barely escaped my lungs. The hoarse voice calling my name over the corn stalks grew more desperate, more urgent. Chris was screaming, but there was no way he was the one holding me.

The realization hit me like ice water, freezing me in place as a hand woven through my hair. 

I tried to stop, my feet dragging in the dirt, but the grip in my hair tightened painfully, yanking me backward. I stumbled, trying to fight back, my scalp burning as I clawed at the hands gripping me. But then, out of the chaos, I heard footsteps—rapid, heavy—and I prayed to whoever would listen that they belonged to the right person this time.

Gunshots exploded in the air, the sound deafening as it cut through the rustling corn. My ears rang, and I felt the world tilt, my head jerked to the side violently. The grip in my hair loosened, and I tore away from the man, the pain in my scalp a distant echo as adrenaline flooded my system.

Christian’s hands found me again, pulling me up from the ground. My body moved sluggishly, the shock wearing off enough for me to register the growing numbness in my right arm. Specter appeared out of the corner of my vision, pacing with a hand running down his face, his eyes darting around like a stressed animal.

“Run!” His voice echoed in my head, not from his mouth, but from somewhere deep inside my own mind.

I wanted to listen, but my body felt sluggish, my feet heavy, as if I were being pulled in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. Christian’s grip was the only thing keeping me upright, his hand on my waist, urging me forward. My limbs were shaking uncontrollably, my muscles twitching in protest as we stumbled through the last of the corn.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we burst into the open. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached the edge of the field. The parking lot stretched ahead of us, the car in sight, but it felt miles away. My right arm and neck throbbed with a deep, icy pain, like someone had pressed a block of ice into my skin. Something was wrong—something had been injected into me, and it was spreading fast.

I couldn’t keep up. My legs trembled violently with each step, barely able to support my weight. My foot caught on a rock, and I went down hard, collapsing onto the gravel. Christian’s hands were on me in an instant, pulling me back up, his breaths ragged with exertion. I was dragging us down, slowing him down.