When someone dies mysteriously during a Psych experiment, Rhiannon becomes enmeshed in a conspiracy that includes both the survivors and the killer.
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Short on cash, Rhiannon...
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ZIMBARDO
( — american psychologist, known for his 1971 stanford prison experiment. )
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RHIANNON HEARS IT BEFORE SHE FEELS IT.
The distant chirping of the scared birds slowly returns, as soon as they find a safe hiding place. On the other hand, the thump barely echoed around them, muffled by the shock clogging everyone's ears, but Rhiannon is almost certain she felt the ground wobble beneath her feet.
She heard it inside her head. The shattering of the invisible walls separating them, the cracking of the glass, the shuffling of Rowan's feet as he tried to move close to Isla as soon as the weapon went off. Her heartbeat echoes in her ears, slowing down momentarily before racing like a hummingbird's, as she watches Isla stop moving.
When Rowan gets to Isla, she remains upright on her feet, and Rhiannon allows herself to breathe. Rowan's father uses that opportunity to pull Laura away from the duo, even though she's still too out of it to react properly, dropping the gun by her feet; Rowan's mother has some strength of spirit and pulls herself out of her half-conscious state, throwing a jacket over the gun before picking it up.
Isla hiccups when Rowan cups her face between his hands and presses his forehead against hers, but she's fine. Laura, with her hair falling in front of her eyes and gluing to her face with sweat and tears, says something Rhiannon doesn't understand, but Rowan does. He pulls away from Isla for long enough to look back, and his mouth drops open.
That's when she feels it.
It begins as a tiny spark of pain before it spreads across her abdomen like wildfire, scorching everything it finds as soon as Rhiannon looks down at the crimson ink staining her sweater, coming from a smaller, darker hole above her hipbone. The contrast of the red against the white fabric is blinding and her lips expel a surprised 'oh', wondering how she hadn't felt it at first.
Noradrenaline. It activates some almost supernatural abilities, but it decreases the ability to feel pain, focusing on keeping you moving and active.
She doesn't feel that active at the moment.
Surprisingly enough, her muscles still find enough energy to carry her back until her shoulder blades hit the brick wall behind her, and she huffs with the contact against the hard surface. Her fingertips tiptoe across the wound, as if it would help, as if it would send her back in time before the shot rang out, before Laura sent that first text, before she stepped into that office.
