Page 49 of Haunting the Hunter

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Panic rises. A sudden, choking wave that I attempt to ignore.

My ears ring, the world’s colors growing too bright and hazy.

My breaths come in—shallow and sharp. A panic attack…

I throw the truck door open, stumble out, and slam it shut.

The world spins.

Vertigo from hell.

I fight to stay upright, my gaze stuck on the side mirror—eyes unblinking at my distorted reflection. I squeeze my eyes shut and slam my fist into the hood.

“Stop… Fucking stop…”

Flashes of blood and the dagger.

I brace myself against the hood, rubbing my eyes, as I try to focus and breathe.

It doesn’t help.

The corners of my vision blur, a cold sweat running down my back.

I rip open the truck door, grab the cooler, and dump water over my head. The shock helps, but just barely.

I drop to my knees, head bowed, and try to reset my mind.

And then… I feel it.

A warm vibration blooms in my chest.

You’re here.

I don’t know how I can feel you—but I do.

Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe you’re just my mind’s way of coping.

But you…

You made it stop.

I can’t see you. I can’t touch you. And I don’t care.

I might be fucked in the head, but I need this.

I need you.

You slip through my fingers, but I feel you everywhere. You haunt my dreams and crawl under my skin until I can’t think of anything else.

Every time I’m reminded of you, it’s like you’re right here—your touch, your warmth. It drives me mad. In the moment, I feel like I’m drowning. You become the air I breathe, and I’m starving for every breath of you.

I shouldn’t want this. It’s pathetic. Desperate.

But when I feel you—fuck. I can breathe.

I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in anything I can’t touch, can’t see, can’t kill.

And yet here I am, talking to you like a lunatic in the middle of the desert.

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