Psycho On The Library Floor
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Inching forward, I'm about to touch the woman's hand. My eyes slip closed. There's this distant part of me crying out—This isn't good, Jemma. Run! Run away! I should be afraid of this woman, but it's like my body's given me permission not to be. She'll take me to him, and then—
"Oh no you don't." Someone grips my arm, jerking me back. There's a gust of wind against my cheek and I force my eyes open.
"What?" Spinning around, my cloudy brain registers that Angry Popcorn Guy is standing beside me. "What are you doing here?"
"You don’t want to go with her," he says. "Trust me."
"Trust you? Why should I?" I try and yank my arm free, but he holds tight.
He rolls his eyes skyward. "Well, just look at her, for starters."
The woman is still standing there, though now she's encased in ice. Her body appears frozen, but her eyes aren’t. They dart wildly around, landing in our direction. She's monstrous, beyond terrifying. A low growl erupts from somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. I take an involuntary step back.
How is it that only a second ago I wanted to leave with her? It's as if someone's snuck up and dumped a bucket of ice water on me. I shake my head again. Then I remember ‘Angry Popcorn Guy.’ I whip my head around.
"What are you doing here?" I blurt out, before I can stop myself. "Are you stalking me or something?" Triumph surges through me as I throw his own words back in his face.
He narrows his eyes. "Pretty much."
"What?" It's then that I realize he's still holding my arm. "Get off of me." I try and move away, but he keeps his hold on me.
"You are not going to him."
"What are you talking about?" I ask. My heart slams against my chest. He can't mean.... Is it my imagination or did the woman's arm just move?
"The boy from the woods? The one who used to watch you? He's finally free and he's here. He's going to try and take you. Again."
"How do you know—"
"I know everything there is to know about you, Jemma." He scowls, but offers me his hand. "I'm Owen. Owen Augustine."
"How do you know my name?" I stare at his hand as if it's a poisonous snake. "Get away from me. You're following me around and you expect me to just shake your hand?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I expect." He grabs my hand without my offering it and gives it a firm shake. His warm skin sends tingles up my arm.
"There. You know me. Now, I don't want us to get killed, so I suggest you follow me," Owen says.
The sound of splintering wood fills the aisle as I glance back at the woman. Waves of black lines cover her skin once more. They remind me of tree roots. Trees. The trees and Molly. Something about Molly.
"Jemma. Come on!” Owen's words are hushed, but still forceful. “You have no idea what he's capable of, or what he can do. If we stay here, we're endangering not only our lives, but the lives of everyone in the building. I know you don't want that."
The woman bursts free of her icy tomb, her arms growing, sharpening. She knocks over the bookcase. Her hair elongates to form a leaf-covered branch. It shoots out. A crash splinters the silence as she shatters a window. Screams fill the room. All around us, people are running, tearing across the floor.
"Don't be a fool," Owen says through gritted teeth. "We need to leave."
I can't move a muscle to follow. Fear has me frozen in place. Instead, I stare, my mouth hanging open as one of Tree Woman's branches moves in our direction, the smaller twigs bent like fingers, forming a giant claw. I can't wrap my head around it. The clawed branch is advancing, reaching for me. It's going to grab me. Take me to him.
"Now, Jemma!" Owen seizes my hand. It's like my head's been dunked in a bucket of liquid clarity.
Unease scurries over my skin. Owen's right. I have to get out. Now. "Oh crap!"
"Now!" Owen practically drags me to the stairwell. This time I let him. The woman is only inches away. She could touch me, hurt me if she wanted to.
Owen slams into the door and it bangs off of the wall. We fly down the stairwell, our footsteps echoing inside the concrete space. The building is only a few stories and we pound down all three flights of steps without a word.
It’s not too late. We’re going to make it. We’re going to get away. The sound of screaming fills the distant air. What? So we’ll escape and all those people... "Wait. We need to go back. If she hurts any of those people."
A cracking sound draws my attention and I glance at the railing. Vines are growing, shifting, and weaving their way along it. I try and snatch my hand back, but one of them encircles my wrist.
"Ah!"
Owen whips around. His eyes narrow. "Not on my watch." He presses a single finger to the vine and ice trails over it, freezing it, trapping it. The cold burns my skin, but Owen slams a fist on the vine shattering it to pieces, freeing me. He takes my hand. "Come on. It’s not them she’s after."
"Wha-what? H-ow?"
"Not now, Jemma." Owen doesn't glance back, but his voice still manages to be a warning. We finally reach the parking garage and he stops. I almost collide with him. My breath spits out in fast huffs. I wrap my arms around myself, but it does nothing. I'm freezing. My stupid coat is upstairs.
"Do you have a car?" Owen's voice is demanding.
"No. I walked."
"Great. Well, we'll have to acquire one, then. Come on." He moves into the distance, but I don't follow. He whips around. "Are you coming?"
"No." I try to make my voice sound strong. "You just admitted to stalking me and what was that thing? What are you?"
"That thing was a tree warrior." He shrugs like this is no big deal.
It is such a big deal. I shake my head, backing up. "A tree warrior?"
"He sent them." Another chill passes over me. How does Owen know about him? "As for me, that's a really long story. One we don't have time for right now."
Yesterday, I had so many questions for this hottie. That was before I almost got accosted by some tree warrior in the History section. "I'm going home."
"You can't." Owen shakes his head. "He's not going to stop, Jemma. He'll follow you. He'll kill anyone who gets in his way. He'll make you think of nothing but him. Just like Molly."
My face heats. "How do you know about her?"
"I told you, Jemma. I know things."
"No. You're a stranger. You're probably way more of a threat than he is."
Owen shakes his head and stalks toward me. Impatient, gray storm clouds build in his eyes, reeling me in. Once again, I find myself unable to turn away. Then he's close, so close. This guy has no concept of personal space.
"Look. I don't want to do this, Jemma, but you're leaving me no alternative."
Owen leans in, brings his lips to within an inch of mine. Is he going to kiss me? Better yet, do I want him to? Instinctively, I part my lips, his intense eyes holding mine hostage.
He puckers his lips together like a child would. Before I can laugh, he blows a slow stream of air into my mouth. It's frigid, like frost. I can't help myself from allowing it in, from drawing Owen in.
And then the darkness comes.