Page 159
Chapter 159 of "Tempting Venom" opens showing suspense: The desperate drumbeat against my ribs intensifies with each breath that fogs in the air.No.I... Continue the adventure!
The desperate drumbeat against my ribs intensifies with each breath that fogs in the air.
No.
I try to fight the black, to thrash out, but the cement poured on my body imprisons me in place. I can see my ownlimbs, but my skin is stretched tight, detached, and far away, floating in the void.
These limbs donât belong to me.
Idonât belong to me.
The darkness shifts, transforming into a suffocating presenceâa heavy velvet curtain draped over my face. The weight steals my breath, and nausea spikes hard, but I donât throw up.
Icanât.
Thethump-thump-thumpaccelerates, a chaotic rhythm of panic. Itâs no longer my heart thatâs beating in my ears. Itâs the sound of a hammer driving a nail into soft wood. A sound scraping the inside of my head.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Mommy.
Daddy.
Help.
I canât breathe.
Please help me breathe.
I canâtâŚbreathe.
I scream, but only a low, haunting voice comes out.
The stars slowly return to the ceiling, shining brighter, and I can see them dangling toward me.
Take me with you, I whisper in my head.I want to go with you.
I float higher toward the stars, watching the scene from above as the small bodyâthe useless shell I left behindâbarely gives a shudder. The terror coils hot in the cavity where my center should be, but itâs distant, muffled by the black.
Itâs fine. Itâs not happening to you, the stars whisper, theirvoices similar to mine, colder, inhuman.Youâre just watching. Youâre safe.
I close my eyes in the dark, my real eyes, the ones that exist outside the body on the bed, and wait for the apathy to swallow the last of the fear.
For a moment, Iâm a ghost tethered to a corpse, waiting for the string to finally snap.
But it doesnât.
And the boy who looks like me is thrashing. Heâs fighting, trying to breathe.
âShut up,â I murmur. âShut the fuck up. Stop fighting. Itâll only hurt more if you fight.â
His big green eyes, the ones I didnât kill yet, are staring up at me, welling with a pool of tears.
âHelpme,â he says, the words carried on a low, haunted rasp. âTell Mom and Dad to help me.â
âNo one will ever help you. Just stay still and put up with it.â