HOPE
"What's wrong, Jeremy?"*
"Don't react," Jeremy says tightly, his gaze locked dead ahead. Even his eyes are still and unnervingly blank. "No matter what you feel. No matter what you see. Don't flinch. Don't look. Just keep your eyes forward."
A chill laces down my spine as I tighten my grip on my dress, my palms slick with sweat. Part of me wants to believe he's messing with me, but the bloodless cast to his face says otherwise.
"What the fuck is going on, Jeremy?" My voice comes out as a whisper.
"I kinda got you on the dark side of the field… I was distracted. But don't worry, I'll fix this. I'll get us out of here."
Get us out of here? Is it that fucking serious?
My blood turns to ice as a suffocating cold slithers through, crawling—deliberate and vile. I can't see it, only a faint ripple at the edge of my vision.
