Hurricane - Book 2

Chapter 8

His room was the smallest of all the spaces on the first floor, but it was still three times bigger than his room at home. All the other rooms had their own fireplace for warmth except for his. But Alberto didn't mind. He found that he enjoyed the cold weather. He felt calmer. He undressed until he was only in his long pajama pants and curled under a big pile of blankets. The cold sent shivers up his bareback.

The room was bright. The light overhead was on, as well as the lamp on his nightstand. He couldn't handle the darkness. Not alone. He left the lights on as he let his eyelids droop.

~.~.~.~.~.~

BANG!!!

A sound so loud it made Alberto's ears ring, tore through the house, shaking the walls. Thunder ripped the sky apart as flashes of lightning danced in the storm clouds. It was raining. But it was more than that. This was a typhoon. The wind howled, and the rain beat against Alberto's window like it was trying to break in.

The window lit up with bright white light, then a moment later second BANG sounded. The walls shook. Everything was vibrating with sound. Then.... it all went dark.

The power was out.

Not even the lightning outside his window sent Alberto's heart hammering as quickly as the darkness. Instantly he was back in the black box. Trapped. The water filling his lungs. Drowning him.

Alberto clutched his chest, gasping for breath. He was choking on nothing as his body sent waves of adrenaline and panic down his spine. His hand flew to the blankets tangled around his legs, trying to free himself. He fumbled until he fell from his bed, hitting the hardwood floor.

The moment his skin felt the cool floor, he found air in his lungs again. He gasped.

There was no box. No confinement. He was safe.

He focused on slowing his breathing, pushing the panic attack away. Alberto regained control of himself once more. He listened to the sound of rain on glass.

Then there was a third sound. Just as loud as the first two, but infinitely more terrible.

It was a scream.

The scream was fear incarnate. Its intervals ranged as the sound tore through the house. But it didn't stop. The voice screamed over and over. It ripped through Alberto's flesh. Boiled his blood. Made every cell in his body fill with dread.

Then he felt it. The feeling of unrelenting torment. It came from the rope inside him. Tugging at his soul. The pain of it... nearly knocked him unconscious. Through that connection, he was thrust back into the darkness, back into his own hell.

His muscles moved on their own. He leaped from the floor, throwing open the door so hard it came off its hinge, tearing at the wooden frame. He flew out blindly, hitting his shoulder into the wall. He felt the wall cave from the impact.

"Alberto, don't!" Mattias yelled. Giulia and Eshe were close behind.

But Alberto wasn't listening. He hurtled up the stairs, following the sound of the strangled cries.

He threw open the door at the top of the stairs. He could barely see in the blackness, but he didn't need his eyes. His ears were enough to lead him to the screaming body writhing on the bed.

Alberto dove for Luca, trying to stop his thrashing so he didn't hurt himself.

But Luca couldn't see him. His eyes were wide, but he wasn't seeing. Alberto knew all Luca saw was blackness. All Luca felt was the sensation of drowning. Over and over and over - endlessly trapped in an illusion of terror. Because Alberto was feeling it all too.