Touch

Second

The hand moved in to smother her nose, preventing her from breathing. Panic overtook her and she threw both hands onto her assailant, smacking and pounding, pulling and twisting, as a distant burning in her chest and lungs steadily intensified. She bit the hand over her face, teeth digging deep into its metallic-tasting flesh, until it loosened and fled.

Air, finally.

Her body and mind were separate. Her mind was stung, dizzied, while her body yanked the bathroom door open, slammed it closed, and stumbled into her bedroom. She bit down her panic, placing her palms to the wooden barrier in front of her.

The doorknob rattled.

"No, no. Christ, no." Her voice was scratchy and hysterical, her breaths staccato bursts, her teeth tight. Her hands flew to the knob, keeping it from turning, keeping the black hand at bay, for the moment. "You're not getting me, you little shit." There was pressure coming from the other side of the door, more pressure than a single hand could muster. She held as strong as she could, but her arms were starting to ache and shake and the doorknob felt much too slippery. She swore and bit into her bottom lip, tasting blood. Her heart was exploding. "No! No!" The doorknob moved against her will. "Mom! Dad! Help me!"

"Is this another one of your jokes, Katie?" called Tasha Pops. "You were screaming earlier."

"This is not a joke!" Katie burst out.

"Don't yell at me."

The knob jimmied once more. The door inched open slightly, turned ajar. Katie held it back with all her might. Her eyes were stinging.

This was impossible.

This was impossible!

"Please. Please!"

She couldn't keep going.

She was going to let go.

The door shook on its frame, hinges creaking.