Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t h r e e

"With your feet on the air and your head on the ground"
Where Is My Mind? - Pixies

Amara's fingers trembled as she traced the sigil drawn in salt on the motel room floor. The candles flickered weakly in the dim light, casting long shadows across the walls. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her pulse racing as she repeated the incantation she had memorised, the foreign words feeling heavy on her tongue. The air was already thick with tension, colder than it should have been.

She knelt in the centre of the circle she'd created, her knees digging into the rough floor, her heart pounding in her chest. The room felt smaller somehow, as if the walls were slowly closing in. The entity's presence pressed against her from all sides, growing heavier with each passing second.

Evangeline.

Her name echoed through the room, low and menacing, like a cold whisper snaking through the shadows. Amara's stomach twisted, the sound of it making her skin crawl. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep chanting, even as her voice wavered.

The candles flickered again, the light dimming. The shadows along the walls began to shift, dark shapes twisting and writhing as if they were alive. Amara's breath hitched, her heart hammering so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

She could feel it now—the entity, closing in on her, its presence heavy and suffocating. The air was frigid, colder than it had ever been, and her skin prickled with the sensation of something unseen brushing against her.

"Evangeline..."

The voice was louder this time, more insistent. It sounded like it was right behind her, cold breath curling against the back of her neck. Amara's pulse spiked, her hands trembling as she clutched the Bible in her lap, holding it tight as if it might shield her from what was coming.

The incantation faltered on her lips, her voice barely above a whisper now. The shadows around her twisted and stretched, the darkness growing deeper, more solid. She could feel it—something—circling her, just beyond the edge of the candlelight.

Amara squeezed her eyes shut, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She tried to focus, to keep the words flowing, but the air felt too thick, too heavy. The temperature plummeted, frost forming on the edges of the salt circle, creeping inward like fingers reaching for her.

Her heart raced, panic clawing at her throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The ritual was supposed to keep the entity at bay, not bring it closer. But it was here now, and it wasn't leaving.

A cold gust of wind swept through the room, snuffing out one of the candles. The shadows grew longer, stretching toward her like dark tendrils, flickering at the edges of her vision. Amara's breath caught in her throat, her body rigid with fear.

"Evangeline..."

The voice was so close now, it felt like it was inside her head, echoing in her bones. The candles flickered again, the light dimming until the room was almost completely dark.

Amara's voice cracked, her chant dissolving into shallow gasps. The sigil beneath her feet blurred as the shadows swallowed the light. She tried to steady her breathing, to hold onto the ritual, but the air was so thick, so cold.

Another candle went out.

Her hands shook violently as she gripped the Bible tighter, her knuckles white. The pages fluttered under her fingers, but the words on the page blurred in the low light. Her mouth was dry, the incantation slipping away from her, the fear swallowing her whole.

The entity was so close now. She could feel it, pressing against the edges of her mind, cold and suffocating. It was waiting for her to make a mistake, for her to falter—and she knew she already had.