The Screaming Season
“Ms. Simonet asked me, trying to sound like she cared. She was checking on me in the shower room, where she had brought me to clean up.
Maybe she knew I was fragmenting beneath the warm spigot of water. I was pressing against the shiny white tile, back flat, head lowered, eyes shut so I wouldn’t see what I was imagining there . . . a pair of hands, pushing me under the water, in one of the huge bathtubs in the bathroom that was in my dorm. I knew it wasn’t happening; I knew it was one more o...f Celia’s horrible memories, but I couldn’t stop my panic.
It was the drugs, I told myself. The drugs that had thrown me into one nightmare after another the night before, torturing me with flashes of images like this one and worse—the girls in the forest; eyeless faces laughing; the ice pick; the mallet; and what the girls looked like after Dr. Abernathy finished with them—the living dead. Zombies. The phantoms of Marlwood.
And all their rage lived on.MoreLess
Maybe she knew I was fragmenting beneath the warm spigot of water. I was pressing against the shiny white tile, back flat, head lowered, eyes shut so I wouldn’t see what I was imagining there . . . a pair of hands, pushing me under the water, in one of the huge bathtubs in the bathroom that was in my dorm. I knew it wasn’t happening; I knew it was one more o...f Celia’s horrible memories, but I couldn’t stop my panic.
It was the drugs, I told myself. The drugs that had thrown me into one nightmare after another the night before, torturing me with flashes of images like this one and worse—the girls in the forest; eyeless faces laughing; the ice pick; the mallet; and what the girls looked like after Dr. Abernathy finished with them—the living dead. Zombies. The phantoms of Marlwood.
And all their rage lived on.MoreLess
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