CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

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the weakness of love

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the weakness of love

the weakness of love

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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

As unsettling as this new information was—everything with the chemical-drinking and the bit that the flayed might not actually be human—what Alina found even more unsettling was the Holloway dining room, which they all headed into right after the kitchen. The platter of drugged cookies, the nearly-finished wine glasses, the half-eaten plates of food (that had obviously begun to rot—Alina could smell it from here, and the mixture of this with the chemicals was almost unbearable for her nose)... this was the same dinner she, El, and Max had walked in on what felt like a century ago. As Alina scrutinized the area, she almost felt like she was back in her raincoat, dripping all over the floor, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as Billy spoke to them good-naturedly.

Except, of course, Billy and the Holloways were gone. And something else was up, because a dark wine stain colored half the tablecloth (maybe a reaction to the drugs?). Alina stepped closer to the table, running her hand over the soft fabric, holding her breath, and found a half-eaten cookie on one of the plates. Yep. Definitely the drugs. Even though they'd already worked their way out of their system, just looking at the cookie made Alina a little wobbly.

There was no doubt in Alina's mind now that something bad had happened to Heather's parents, and how that something probably was flaying. Bile boiled in her throat. Nobody deserved this. Nobody deserved the Mind Flayer rotting inside them.

She looked away from the table, and that was when her eye got caught on a new piece of evidence; a wine bottle laying on the carpet. Nancy had evidently already noticed while Alina was wallowing, as she was making her way over to it. Crouching down, her hand trailed over another stain—although Alina didn't think this one was wine.

"Blood," Nancy murmured. Alina found herself reaching for Lucas's hand. He grabbed it immediately, because he looked terrified. As terrified as Alina felt. And although his hand was sweaty, Alina kept her hold. She needed something to hold onto. And by now she knew that the something was always him.

PAROXYSM- Lucas Sinclair ³Where stories live. Discover now