Free Leave This Place by Spike Black Page B

labored now, and she worried that perhaps he was having a bad dream.
    She lay there for a while longer, relishing this world of no alarms and no urgency. Of being able to revel in a bed’s comfort of a morning. She knew that if she even slightly moved the bedsprings would jab her, so she stayed perfectly still.
    Silas sounded even worse now, his breath hitching regularly in his throat. Oona poked her bottom out, pressing it into him the way he liked when they spooned.
    And then she heard a voice. Coming from downstairs.
    “Oona! Breakfast’s ready!”
    Her eyes snapped open.
    Her world spun. It couldn’t be, surely?
    As if to confirm, he called again. “Come on, Oons.”
    It was Silas.
    Silas.
    Silas was downstairs.
    A bolt of undiluted terror ripped through her, tightening every muscle, clamping every joint.
    She held her breath, consumed with fear.
    Her bottom was pressed into someone. She felt that same person’s hot breath on her neck. Her heart burst free from its case of ice and began pumping hard.  
    She wanted to turn and look, but she daren’t move a muscle. Besides, the terror would likely kill her.
    At that moment, a set of fingers wrapped themselves around her upper arm. They drummed a peculiar rhythm on her skin:  
    Tap-tappety, tap-tappety, tap.
    Oona had to do something. She steeled herself.
    5—
    Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved her feet toward the edge of the bed.
    4—
    She gently pulled the covers away, just enough that they no longer weighed her down.
    3—
    She slid her feet off the edge of the bed until her heels hooked onto the side of the mattress, giving her purchase.
    2—
    Silas’s voice echoed through her mind, like a stuck record on the devil’s turntable. What is that? Breakfast’s ready! What is that? Breakfast’s ready! What is that? Breakfast’s ready!
    1—
    She took a deep breath. You can do this. She wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she thought her heart might explode, either way.
    GO!
    Oona leapt from the bed, the springs groaning, her toes catching around the bed sheet and pulling it with her. She stumbled as her feet hit the floorboards, but she kept her balance, unhooking the sheet, not looking back, not daring to look back - if she turned and saw anything, anything at all, it would be the end of her.
    She ran for the door, grabbing the round handle and forgetting in the moment whether she was supposed to turn or push or pull. She tried all three and none seemed to work.
    The bedsprings groaned again. Was he getting up? Was he behind her?
    She turned the knob.
    No.
    Pushed.
    No.
    Pulled. Dear God, please…
    The door sprang open.
    She exploded onto the landing and turned sharply, hurtling down the staircase.
    Be careful , a voice cautioned. You’ll do yourself an injury. But there was no time. She had to get away.
    The steps were tall and close together, and she saw herself overbalancing, in slow motion. Soon she would topple off the staircase and her skull would hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor with a crack, her brains spilling out like bloodied egg yolk…
    But no. She regained her balance, racing down the remaining steps. Her bare feet smacked the linoleum as she made it down.
    Silas was at the sink, singing Here Comes the Sun . He turned, holding a frying pan and wearing an apron with a country cottage emblazoned on the front.
    He saw Oona and his face dropped.
    She realized she must have looked a sight as she gasped for breath, her eyes wide with fear.
    “What’s wrong?” he said. “You look like—”
    Don’t say it.
    “—you’ve seen a ghost.”
    She could only stare at him. She tried moving her mouth but no sound came out. And he was wrong, anyway. She hadn’t seen a ghost. Only heard it.
    And felt its breath on the back of her neck.
    “Are you alright?”
    Oona wanted to confess everything. To confirm for him that he wasn’t crazy. You’re right about ghosts, Silas. They do exist, after all.
    But as Silas moved closer she saw how