A Spirit Between Us (bxb)

Chapter 8 - Dread.

Chapter TW: emetophobia 

Finn woke the next day with a sensation that ate at him, starting deep in the pit of his stomach. His eyes opened to the dim light filtering through his bedroom blinds, but something felt off. Wrong. It was as if the air around him was thicker, charged with an unseen tension. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint what it was, but all he could latch onto was this relentless, uneasy feeling twisting inside him.

Finn was no stranger to waking up with anxiety. He knew the difference between his mind playing tricks on him and genuine fear. Normally, his mornings were marked by the familiar hum of irrational worries, but this... this was different. His body felt it first, his heart beating a little faster, his breathing shallow. But it wasn't the usual panic creeping in. No, this was something deeper, primal even, like his gut was sounding an alarm his mind hadn't caught up to yet.

He sat up slowly, his room still cloaked in the morning shadows, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to shake the feeling. But it clung to him. The more he woke up, the more certain he became that this wasn't just his anxiety whispering lies.

There was a storm brewing. Not the kind that brought rain and thunder, this was far more dangerous. It was as if the air itself was buzzing with the promise of something horrible coming his way. His instincts screamed at him, sending cold shivers through his body. A knot tightened in his stomach, making him feel almost nauseous as his mind raced through the events of the previous day. The horrifying discovery that he was being haunted by the unknown. The chill that had followed him home, lingering long after he'd left Archie's house.

He got out of bed, his legs unsteady as if the ground beneath him might give way at any moment. He crossed the room to his window and pulled the blinds aside, peering out into the quiet street. Everything looked normal. Too normal. The world outside was calm, still, but that only added to the sense of foreboding that curled tighter in his chest. His instincts weren't wrong. Something was coming. He could feel it in his bones, a pressure building up inside him like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable crash.

Finn hurried downstairs, skipping his usual morning routine. He wasn't planning on going to school. How could he, with the growing sense of dread making him feel sicker by the minute?

As he entered the large, sleek kitchen, he expected the comforting sight of his dad at the stove, cheerfully flipping pancakes while his mom sat at the island, sipping coffee. Instead, he was greeted by the sharp slap of a letter hitting the countertop and his mother's furious glare.

"Care to explain?" she snapped.

Finn, too tired and nauseated to process anything, just blinked at her.

"First, you disappear without a word, no text, nothing."

"I'm sor—"

"And now I get a letter from your teacher saying you skipped class?"

Oh, for the love of God. Couldn't he catch a break?

"I feel sick," Finn muttered, his head spinning as he chose to ignore his mother's remarks. "Can I stay home?"

His father, glancing up from his phone, chimed in, "No. You've got practice today. Don't forget the big game tomorrow."

Finn rubbed his temples, trying to hold it together. "Please... I really think I'm gonna throw up."

His mother's glare intensified. "Finley, I don't know what's gotten into you the past two days, but you're going to school, and you'll attend every class. End of discussion. Go get dressed."

There was no arguing with that tone. Defeated, Finn dragged himself back upstairs, knowing there was no chance of convincing her otherwise. It was going to be a miserable day at school.