The rain was hammering the cheap motel like it had a personal grudge. The room smelled of bleach, damp carpet and broken dreams. Three months. Ninety-three days since Michael and I jumped out my bedroom window with nothing but backpacks and stupidity.
I was lying on the squeaky bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.
“Hey, Michael,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Don’t you think it’s about time we went back to college?”
Michael was sitting on the edge of the mattress, picking at his wet shoelaces. He looked at me like I’d suggested we rob a bank with water guns.
“Come on, Dani,” he sighed. “Now’s not the time for jokes. We said we’d live together, start our own thing… that was the plan, right?”
“Sure,” I scratched my head. “But the plan is kinda broke. We have zero money. Hey—” my eyes lit up with that dumb, desperate genius only broke nineteen-year-olds have. “What if we hit a casino? One good night and we’re set!”
Michael stared at me like I was insane. “A casino? We’d lose everything we don’t have.”
He flopped back on the bed. His arm brushed mine. For a second the old warmth was there, the same warmth from high school when we thought running away would fix everything.
I grinned and pressed closer. “It’ll be like sneaking into the faculty lounge, remember? We always made it work.”
Michael didn’t laugh. He just pulled me in, chin resting on my head. I felt his heartbeat against my shoulder. Steady. Real. The only steady thing left.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “We certainly will…”
His warmth faded.
Not slowly. It vanished.
The musty motel smell turned into wet earth and rot. The rain on the window warped into wind through invisible branches. I opened my eyes and knew, with ice in my veins, I wasn’t in that room anymore.
Darkness. Complete. Ancient. The kind that makes your balls shrink.
“WHERE THE HELL AM I?!”
My scream disappeared into nothing. No echo. Just wind I couldn’t feel.
Then the voice came from everywhere.
“Well, well… you’ve got some fire in you, Dani Zeyer.”
It sounded amused. Like a bored god watching a kid throw a tantrum.
An icy gust slammed my face. Trees I couldn’t see thrashed wildly. Branches crashed like thunder.
“What the fuck is this?!” I yelled, arms up to block something invisible.
“Shut up.”
My jaw slammed shut like someone had stitched it. Panic exploded in my chest. I tried to scream — only a choked grunt came out.
“I brought you here for a purpose,” the voice continued, calm and cold. “You were chosen for an experiment. And you’d better conceive a child.”
A child? What the actual fuck?
The wind spun faster, lifting me off the ground. Leaves and dirt whipped around me like a tornado.
Then a blinding white flash erased everything.
A hand. Massive. Black. Fingers like canyons descending from the sky.
“I will send you there,” the voice boomed. “And you had better make it count.”
The hand dropped.
Pain. Bones snapping. Organs pulping. The last thing I thought was his name, a silent scream:
Michael…
Then nothing.
I woke up gasping.
Rough sheet on my cheek. Bleach and damp smell. The familiar buzz of the broken neon sign outside.
Our motel room.
A dream. A fucked-up nightmare.
I sat up, rubbing my temple. The bed was cold. I reached for Michael’s side.
Empty. Perfectly made. Like no one had slept there.
“Michael?”
My voice sounded wrong. Too high.
I stumbled to the bathroom, legs shaky. Splashed cold water on my face. Grabbed the gray towel — Michael’s towel — and dried off.
“Damn, this gorgeous hair,” I muttered, running my hand through it.
Then I froze.
The hand in the mirror wasn’t mine.
Long, delicate fingers. Smooth arm. No dark hair. No bitten nails.
Heart slamming, I looked up.
Staring back was a girl. Platinum blonde. Soft features. Wearing my Ramones tee and baggy shorts.
She moved when I moved.
I opened my mouth. The scream that came out was high, female, and terrified.
“Who the hell is that girl?!”
The girl in the mirror screamed the same thing.
I was her.
And Michael was gone.
Somewhere in the other room, a phone I’d never seen before started to ring.