Page 19 of Don’t Let Him In

Teeth grinding, I keep my attention fixed on him as he tracks every hesitant movement I make, arms rigid at his sides. A twitch ripples through his fingers before they slowly curl into fists, the only fracture in his otherwise unreadable stillness.

Somewhere between panic and hysteria, a gamut of terrifying thoughts snarl together in my head, strangling the words before they can leave my mouth. Blistering white spots pepper my vision.

Speak. Beg. Shout.

Just do something.

But my tongue only bloats heavier behind my chattering teeth.

He closes some of the distance between us.

Shrinking back, a strangled whimper slips out of me as my legs scraggle against the wood, drawing closer to my chest for protection. Painfully aware of just how exposed and vulnerable I am.

Why’s he the only one who can see me?

Why’s he so unfazed?

The questions all die in the back of my throat, a slobbering tangle of sobs ejecting in their place.

Taking in my visceral reaction, he stops an arm’s length away. A heavy sigh escapes him before he spears his long, blunt fingers through his tangled blond hair, tugging it back before meeting my eyes. I dodge them, screwing mine shut like that’ll blank him out of existence.

“Tatum,” he says, his voice just as gentle as I’d ever known it. “Won’t you look at me?”

A thread of reluctance keeps my lips stitched tight, trembling as I stiffly shake my head, attention fixed on the darkness behind my eyelids.

He groans, sounding almost pained.

Silence drags for only a moment before he moves closer, soft on his heels the way I’d expect from a hunter circling its prey.

Floorboards groan closer and immediately, I flinch, squeezing my eyes tighter and dragging my aching palms against the cold hardwood to draw myself back as far as I can go.

“S-stay back.”

My voice comes out in a pathetic squeak, stripped so raw with fear it jars me. Spasmodic trembling jerks through my body like a marionette yanked by invisible strings. I keep retreating until the small of my back slams into the cold wall and my spine snaps rigid.

Both arms fling up as my last line of defense, barricading me behind the tears streaking down my face. It’s all I can do.

“P-please. Please, d-don’t come—don’t⁠—"

My stutter returns with a vengeance, hijacking the rest of my words.

Shoulders climbing toward my ears, I shrink deeper into myself. My broken cries double in pitch as he crouches beside me. His arms brace either side of my head, silently urging me to look at him, but I keep my eyes screwed shut, lashes wet and trembling.

Manson whispers my name again, each syllable scraping through my defenses, but I don’t budge. The space between us shrinks.

He’s so close.

“It’s not as bad as it feels,” he says softly with a tone that almost has me forgetting the meaning behind them. “I promise. You’re safe.”

Against my better judgment, I latch to the soothing tenor of his voice as it settles over me, grounding me enough not to completely drown in this pulverizing reality I’ve found myself in.

“Let me help you.”

Somehow, I manage to see past the sheen of tears enough to meet his roaming eyes, catching on the lines etched between his brows. But everything sways again, dragging me into a floaty haze that fogs my mind and dulls my reflexes despite my best efforts to fight it.

Pushing against the lump in my throat, I ask, “What’s happening to me?”

One of his hands leaves my side, drifting down to cup my cheek, his thumb dusting my jaw. Every inch of my body tightens.