My Soul To Take

Chapter 15

Millie ripped her hand out of her sister's grip and punched at the sofa cushion beneath her.

"I don't want to be safe!"

That was it. Suddenly her father's dark eyes deepened. A rush of red flooded into his cheeks.

"Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you in this evacuation cohort?" he said. Despite the fury clear in his face, his voice stayed low, controlled. "Queen's Park is a very prestigious school, and you're lucky to go with them."

"I don't want to go!" Millie screamed.

Olivia sighed and tucked a lock of Millie's hair behind her good ear. "Oh, sweet Millie..."

Millie wanted to shove her sister off the couch, to get up and run from the room, but something shifted. The room began to shake, and dust rained down on them from the ceiling. Pictures slid off the walls, and knick-knacks toppled off the mantle, shattering on the hardwood floor below.

Millie froze, fearful.

Had a bomb landed nearby?

Would another be coming?

But there were no sirens, no screaming...

And no one else seemed to notice.

Her father continued to drone on as the room fell apart around them, though whatever he was saying couldn't be heard above the noise. Her sister and mother, with their mirrored faces, looked at her with concern. Millie looked around in a panic. All her training for what to do when the bombings began had flitted from her head. She searched the room for shelter, for escape...

As she turned to look at their bright yellow front door, she saw Sister Marion standing in the corner. She glared down at her, watching her, full of judgement—

Millie's eyes snapped open, and she drew a deep, gasping breath. Once again, she was back in her room at Wickford, drenched with sweat and tangled in her sheets.

It had all been a dream. Another goddamn dream.

Her racing heartbeat began to slow.

Out of habit, she turned to look over at Petra's bed, though she knew she would find it bare and empty. She sometimes hoped that had all been a dream, too—

But it wasn't empty. There was someone there. Two people, in fact.

Though their figures were cloaked in shadow, she recognised the first.

Petra.

She was just as Millie had last seen her that horrible night. Still dressed in her white nightgown, her expression blank as the wound at her neck lay open and pulsing, spilling red down her front. Millie could hear Petra's gasping, gurgling breaths as she fought to breathe, reliving her final gruesome moments over again.

And at her side, Millie's double. The same-faced stranger's familiar wound along the edge of her face was raw and bloody too, but her eyes were focused, staring back at Millie with deep hatred.

"Get me out of here!" she hissed.

Millie shot up in bed, but in a blink, the figures were gone.

Blowing out a long breath, Millie threw off the covers and crawled out of bed. Sleep was a lost cause.

She wandered across the room, no longer needing to be quiet, and sat down at the writing desk. There was another half-finished letter lying there, addressed to her sister.

Olivia,

Something strange is happening at Wickford. Something has changed since Petra died. The school says it was all an accident, but I think Petra was—