From the Book
A muffled boom shook the building, and the lights flickered overhead. "Oh, great," I breathed, fear sour in my mouth. Another boom, louder this time, coming from farther down the hall.
I ran through the main common room, barely registering the shapes of sofas and tables in my periphery before coming out into the main communal eating area. The doors that led to the emergency stairs slammed open, and I slid to a stop as the scene in front of me came into abrupt, chilling focus.
There, at the far wall, was Michael. He sat cross-legged, his back to me, hand moving in deliberate strokes against the plaster. Some new symbol, I thought at first, another product of his unhinged mind. But then I saw the blood, dark and dripping, and my stomach heaved.
"Michael?" I whispered, creeping forward. The air felt thick, charged with some unseen energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Step by step, I closed the distance between us, dread building in my chest. "Michael, what are you doing?"
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