Page 50 of Cruel Deception
Something crawling across the ceiling.
My heart stopped. My skin went cold.
It moved slowly—eight legs, deliberate, hunting.
A spider.
Then it dropped.
It landed on my arm. Black. Twitching.
My scream tore out of me—gut-deep, throat-shredding. I clawed at myself, frantic to rip it off, but it felt like it had sunk into my skin. Like it was crawling under it.
I was choking. Not on the spider—on fear itself. My throat closed. My chest collapsed inward. I couldn’t find air. Couldn’t find ground.
The walls were too close. The silence was too loud.
I stumbled, gasping, my hands scratching at my neck, at my arms, still convinced it was on me. Still feeling it.Still feeling it.
I curled in on myself as everything twisted sideways. My body convulsed. My mind cracked.
And then—
Nothing.
Just black.
Chapter 10
CHARLOTTE
Darkness.
I floated in it—dry-mouthed, sore, mind frayed at the edges. I couldn’t tell if I was dead, dreaming, or buried beneath something heavy. The air around me smelled like antiseptic and starch. The ceiling above was white. Too white. Too still. A hospital?
My body ached like I’d been ripped apart and stitched back together wrong. IVs tugged at my veins. My lips were cracked. My throat, raw. I blinked, slowly, and the fluorescent lights buzzed louder in my ears than they should have.
Then I saw her.
Just for a second.
Sitting in the chair across from me was a woman—dark hair, a blue scarf. My mother. Her back straight, her hands folded in her lap the way she always sat in church. She was smiling faintly.
“Mom...?”
But when I blinked again, she was gone.
Replaced by an empty chair and a tray of untouched food.
My heart lurched, throat closing. She hadn’t been there. Of course not. Just my brain reaching for comfort, reaching for something kind in this storm.
Footsteps outside. Voices.
“He’s not on the list.”
“Let him in.”
The door slammed open.
