Page 71 of Tempt Me

Maybe the dead mother on the ground had heard us, running this way to seek help.

Did she recognize Fallon’s voice?

“Little Voyeur?” I called out. “Hate me later. Just let me know you’re not hacked to pieces by a murderer, okay?”

Silence. Not even the cries of the baby were heard anymore.

What the fuck?

“Fallon,” I said, a little louder than before, peeking over that lip of earth—still nothing. My heartbeat picked up, my breathing puffing out in small little clouds from the colder weather. “This isn’t funny,” I said, my body shaking.

The more times I called for her with no answer, the more I felt like I was sinking in the mud below my feet. It was like quicksand, sure to drown me little by little.

I walked over to the broken fragments of the wooden coffin, trying to sort through the piles to find a long piece big enough to withstand my weight and the pull of the wet, muddy ground.

Anchoring myself, I stepped up onto the slab and leaned forward toward the top of the hole.

It took a few times before my footing held, and I finally reached one of the metal bars that held up the coffin before.

Maybe this wasn’t an accident. The killer could have set up the coffin, knowing it would be lowered soon. He could have led thatwoman to this area and waited for nature to bury her along with the other dead.

I dug my boots into the side of the muddy wall and pulled myself up to the surface. Not taking any time, I ran toward the area where I had heard those cries. It was still raining, and as I ran, my eyes were blurred from the fucking droplets.

I could see her muddy footprints. Those pointy heels she always liked to wear left a hole in the ground. Following the trail, my blood ran cold when I saw it.

“No!”

Running faster, I dodged sticks and branches as they scraped my arms and face—anything to get to her. My Little Voyeur had interfered with the wrong monster now. I just hoped she was okay.

“Tick-tock, sleeping doll. We meet again.” The sound of the woman made my blood go cold.

What. The. Fuck.

Beelining toward the voice, I saw her through the tree line.

The twin from the asylum, Emmy, was holding the baby in her arms. Fallon was on the ground, her chest covered in blood. I couldn’t tell if she was hurt.

The baby was fussing but looked unharmed as opposed to being naked and covered in blood as well.

Maybe it was his mother’s blood…

“Shhhh! You will wake the baby. Don’t wake it.”

Emmy was never like this. She was such a sweet girl back at the asylum. A little mad, but aren’t we all?

How the fuck did she even get out? I had heard her sister Lemmy died, but I never dreamed she would succumb to this. She sounded exactly like Tick-Tock, Joe.

Was this real? Was it in my mind?

I shook my head, running my hands through my hair. Emmy looked up at me, her red hair wild and her eyes bloodshot and unblinking.

“What happened to you?” I said, holding my hands up in surrender.

She tilted her head and looked over to Fallon.

“Sleeping doll. Soldier wants to play with ‘sleeping doll?’”

I blinked, trying to figure out these riddles. I never could crack Joe’s mania. How was I supposed to crack hers, which was now a carbon copy?

---