Lucas and Katie followed the sound of her voice, barrelling their way through the master bedroom, breaking into a view of the master ensuite. They ran so fast their legs were blurry. They ran without looking, solely focused on the sound, the sound.
No, Katie thought. No. We have to make it.
We have to make it.
A cold pang of electric fear went down to her bones when the screams intensified. She froze and almost forgot how to breathe.
Lucas Derrien had always needed to see to believe.
He saw now, and he believed.
It was a scene that inspired the darkest kind of horror: Tasha Pops, scantily clad in a beige towel, fighting three spiny hands with thick, impossibly long forearms. One hand came from the showerhead; the other extended from the sink drain; the last one beat at her from the sink faucet. Her face was a conflagration of fear.
"Mom!" Katie shouted.
"Help me!" Tasha shrieked.
Katie started forward, apprehension in the face of danger a secondary concern.
Her mother needed her.
But the bathroom door slammed shut, whipped closed by an unseen fourth hand. Crashing noises ensued, but Tasha Pops was silent.
Katie's face melted. She grabbed the doorknob, straining to twist it, but something much stronger than her wasn't about to let that happen. "No, no, shit, no," she said. "Lucas! Help me out!"
Together, they strained.
Together, they failed.
YOU ARE READING
Touch
HorrorNo one takes Katie seriously when she claims a hand burst out of the faucet and tried to kill her. Problem is, she's not making it up. And there are more hands coming. (Cover art by @arielxwrites)
