Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FRANKIE

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding in my throat. My mouth was dry and thick. I rolled onto my right side and reached for my glass of water, but my hand slid over a cold, hard surface. My eyes were thick with sleep so I couldn't get them open, but my other senses kicked into gear. Beneath me should've been my bed with soft sheets, except this felt unmistakably like hardwood floor. Cold air swept over my body, making me tremble from head to toe. I curled my arms and legs in and reached for my blanket, yet found none. My fingers grazed over the bare skin of my thigh. My arms were bare. The goosebumps spreading across my body made my skin tingle.

My eyes flew open.

The room was dark, definitely no lights were on, but there was a flickering orange glow all around me. I had to blink a few times before I was able to see clearly. The hardwood floor was directly beneath my face, I was definitely lying on the ground. It took me a second to summon the energy, but I finally managed to sit up—and choked on a gasp.

I was on the floor wearing nothing but my underwear.

The orange glow came from white candles sitting dangerously on the floor without even a plate or bowl to secure them. Wax dripped down and puddled at the bottom of the candles. My pulse quickened. There were two candles at my feet, one on each side by my shoulders, and then one over my head almost like—I looked above me to the candle by my head that flickered with its flame. Two lines stretched in opposite directions from the candle. The lines were dark in color and too thick to be a liquid. I ran my fingertip through one of the lines and it came up red.

It was blood.

There was no confusing that metallic scent in the air. My stomach rolled. I pushed to my knees and glanced around me. My heart caught in my throat. I reached down to the floor to stabilize myself as my body began to shake like a leaf in a hurricane.

Because drawn in blood on the floor . . . was a pentacle.

A hot lump formed in my throat and my eyes burned. I wrapped my arms around my waist and sank back onto my heels with my knees still digging into the hardwood floor. At each of the five points of the pentacle, a white candle was lit and flickering.

There was no noise but for the beating of my heart and the ragged breath escaping my mouth. I didn't understand what was happening or why. Or how ? What does this mean? Did I do this? How could I do this and not know? I thought about screaming for my aunt and uncle, yet somehow the idea of them seeing this shook me to my core.

"Get in bed, Francelina," a male voice whispered in my mind. "Get in bed and this will all go away."

I was now hearing things, imaginary things, but getting in bed sounded like the best idea anyway. My body trembled and quaked with every step I took toward the bed. I looked down at my hands to find blood dripping from all ten fingertips. I tried to move faster but my body was frozen down to the bone. My legs screamed in agony. Each breath felt like I'd swallowed shards of glass.

This had to be a dream. Nothing made sense otherwise. Fear gripped my spine, but I tried to push it away. My bed was a beacon of hope. If I could just get there, all of this would go away. I knew that in my soul. By the time I climbed into my bed, my muscles gave out, turning to mush and puddle. I collapsed against the sheets, using the sliver of strength I had left to pull those covers up and over my shoulders.

"Close your eyes," that voice whispered again.

I squeezed them shut without hesitation. I wanted this to end. I wanted to wake up. Light flashed in my face. I cringed and lifted my hand up to block the light and the blood on my hand was gone. I frowned and looked down at myself and a little whimper left my lips. I was in my pajamas, in my bed, by myself.

No, no, no, no, no. This isn't right. I whined and looked around my room, using the glow of the television to light the path. My heart stopped. That pentacle was gone. No blood. No candles. What the hell is happening to me? I lifted my hands to run them through my hair and screamed. Those little blue flames covered every inch of my hands and starting to crawl up my arms. Think, Frankie. Think. What did Aunt Kimmy say to do? I squirmed and blew on the flames, but that wasn't doing anything. I didn't even know if they were real fire or if real water would put them out.

Water. She said think of the ocean.

I closed my eyes and thought about the ocean. I heard the waves rolling onto the shore, sweeping over my bare toes as I scrunched the powdery white sand between them. The air brushing across my skin was warm and soothing. I took a deep breath and let the imaginary salty air carry me off to sleep.