Page 87 of She Haunts Me Still

To find herself right in front of a tall figure in a black cloak, face hidden behind an elongated mask with a beak. Like a bird. Like a raven.

She gasps and stumbles, groping behind her for anything to grab. But her hand only swipes air as the masked figure steps toward her. Slow. Menacing. The rest of the room seems to slip away. Lily. Her hospital bed. The light itself.

It’s just them now.

And Mallory doesn’t have to look beneath the mask to know she’s standing before Jacob.

“What do you want?” she whispers.

Jacob is silent as he approaches. He turns the room dark with shadows, cloak fluttering behind him. His hands are still at his sides, covered in leather gloves, and he’s clutching a rusted scalpel in his fist.

Mallory’s breath catches at the sight of it.

“No,” she manages. “Leave us alone.”

Jacob slows. Cocks his head to the side.

And then, without warning, he raises the scalpel. A terrible growl spills behind his mask.

“It’s your turn.”

Mallory unleashes a scream and sprints in the opposite direction, boots pounding on tile. She runs until she collides with something hard—a door.

She tries the handle.Locked.

“Help!” she yells, jiggling the knob. “Please! Someone, h—”

“Miss!” A woman’s voice is sharp behind her. “Miss! You can’t go in there.”

Mallory gulps a panicked inhale. Her heavy breath fogs the glass in front of her. Slowly, she blinks it into view: a door with a narrow windowpane. Room 815W.

Across the hospital from Arden.

There’s a young man inside, dozens of tubes wired to him like gnarled ivy. A stone statue in a well-preserved mausoleum. His light hair is dusted with unexpected gray, and his peach-toned skin is covered in cherry-red splotches that disappear beneath his hospital gown.

“Eight-fifteen W isn’t taking visitors right now,” the woman continues.

She finally glances at the nurse dressed in modern turquoise scrubs, a paper mask over her mouth.

“Family’s wishes,” the nurse adds. “You one of those Grey sorority girls? Nice of you to come by after all this time.”

Mallory’s mouth runs dry. Grey University? She looks again to the window, focusing on a card atop his nightstand, the letters on the envelope that spellB-R-Y-C-E.

Bryce Prescott. Ezra’s fraternity brother.

“Sorry, dear.” The nurse lays a hand on Mallory’s shoulder, mistaking her expression. “I’d suggest coming back tomorrow. Unless you’re on the no-visit list, like that othercollege boy who shows up every few days.” She shakes her head. “Damn persistent, he is.”

Mallory looks back at Bryce.

“Wait,” she calls out. She swallows. “Is he going to be okay?”

The nurse smiles. She tucks her clipboard beneath her arm.

“I’m very sorry, dear,” she says again, leaving Mallory to sift through all the possible meanings of her apology.

In the taxi back to Shore, Mallory stares out the rain-flecked window and wishes she’d asked Saskia to stay with her at the hospital. Choosing to be alone seemed like the right idea at the time, but if Saskia were here, in this weathered back seat beside her, maybe Mallory’s hands would be shaking a little less. Her pulse a little slower. Her fear dialed down to a level she could stand.

The taxi slows at a stop sign, and beneath the steady hum of the engine, an admission sets in. One she’s been circling since Saskia stared at her beneath the ghost light and told Mallory she makes her feel seen. The way she feels about Saskia—it’s not a momentary high, not a fleeting spark. Saskia isn’t just a crush, a girl to be kissed and forgotten. She’s a girl who knows what it’s like to be haunted, a girl who knows how it feels to lose. A girl who listens without judgment, who believes without conditions.