Free The Third Evil by R.L. Stine Page B

in bed when Kimmy or Hannah were in the room. She tried to talk to them as little as possible.
    Miss Green got a doctor to come examine Corky. But, of course, he found nothing wrong.
    Nothing wrong. What a laugh, she thought bitterly.
    Sometimes the evil force faded a little. Sometimes it let her think clearly. Sometimes it gave her just enough time to herself to become afraid, truly afraid.
    And then the roar, the endless roar would return, and her memories would leave her. And she would move in a world of deep red and darker black, and not remember.
    Not remember anything at all.
    Except the fear.
    Lying on top of her bedcovers, tossing uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the ancient evil, she remembered everything now.
    So clearly. Too clearly.
    She remembered sitting in the coffeeshop with the other girls, making the pea soup spurt up over the table.
    Why? Because they had teased her. And just because she
could.
    She remembered reaching out across the gym, reaching, reaching to trip Blair O’Connell. What a pleasing sight that was. And what a pleasing sound. That
crack.
That
crunch.
The sound of her face hitting the floor, her teeth breaking.
    How satisfying, the shimmering red blood that flowed from her wounded mouth.
    And there was more. More!
    She remembered getting up in the early hours of morning, the sky still heavy with night. She remembered creeping to the desk drawer and silently removing her scissors. She remembered working carefully to cut off Hannah’s disgusting black braid. She remembered the soft, nearly silent
snip snip
as she moved the blade through the thick hair. And she remembered placing the severed braid neatly on top of Hannah’s covers so she would see it the moment she woke up.
    That was fun.
    But later her fun had been interrupted.
    Kimmy burst in to spoil her fun, spoil her chance to murder Hannah.
    That had made her so angry the roar had drowned out all her thoughts. She had disappeared inside herself, somewhere far away.
    And now…now…
    Corky sat up, uttering a low cry.
    She suddenly understood the dreams, the dreams about Bobbi.
    She suddenly understood what Bobbi had been trying to tell her in those sickening, awful dreams.
    When Bobbi had opened her skull and pointed to the horrors inside, Bobbi was telling Corky:
Look inside your own head. Look inside yourself. The horror is inside YOU!
    â€œNow I understand, Bobbi,” Corky said out loud.
    And as she said this, her bed rose. She grabbed the covers as the bed began to writhe and toss like a bus on a bumpy road.
    No. Oh no. Please—nooooo.
    The foot of the bed bucked as if trying to throw her off. Then the covers began to roll over her, the bed trembling and shaking.
    No. Oh, please. Stop!
    She clung to the bedspread, tightening her grip, holding on for dear life. The headboard slapped loudly against the wall. The covers flapped as if being blown by a hurricane wind. The mattress buckled and bumped.
    Help me! Please—stop it! STOP it!
    Terrified, she rolled off the bed and toppled onto the floor.
    As she hit the floor, landing on her elbows and knees, the carpet began to undulate in waves, rising then buckling back down, flapping noisily.
    The curtains beside her windows flew straight out as if reaching for her. The windows rose then slammed down.
    Please—stop! STOP!
    Her perfume bottles and cosmetics flew up from her dresser top and hovered near the ceiling.
    The windows opened and shut more rapidly as the curtains continued to flap wildly. Struggling to her feet, Corky was tossed helplessly about by the rocking, undulating carpet.
    She reached up toward her dresser, but the moving carpet pulled her back. The mirror above the dresser burst into flames, then appeared to melt. She gaped in open-mouthed horror as the silvery lava poured down over the front of the dresser onto the throbbing, bucking floor.
    And then she saw the puddle of dark blood on the carpet just in front of