Page 63 of Where the Dark Things Bloom

Waited.

I backed away slowly, my heart thumping against the inside of my ribs like it wanted out. I didn’t know where to go. The room wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe it never was.

I laid back down, curling in on myself. The blankets were too tight. The air is too thick.

I stared at the ceiling.

Waited for the room to settle.

It didn’t.

Somewhere inside me, something began to splinter.

Memories I didn’t ask for.

Flashes that didn’t belong.

A swing set.

The smell of wet earth.

Blood on the stairs.

Dorian’s voice.“You promised.”

The walls started to pulse, like something was crawling just beneath the surface.

I turned my head and saw her.

Myself.

In the mirror.

But she was closer now.

She mouthed something I couldn’t hear.

I closed my eyes.

And I saw it again.

The garden.

Black roses blooming against a sky that didn’t have stars. Dorian standing barefoot in the dirt, skin pale, lips cracked.

“You left,” he said, voice low. Too low.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered.

“You let them bury me.”

“I didn’t—“ My voice cracked like ice underweight. “I didn’t know.”

“But you do now,” he said, stepping forward. “You always did.”

The ground opened beneath me.

I fell.

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