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J.E. Nickerson
“Please, I don’t wanna die!” Carol screamed as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes locked onto the wall as she continued to hear the laughing on the other side.
“Please,” she moaned. “Make it stop. Make it stop!” Her hands covered her ears as she closed her eyes. The laughter finally stopped for just a moment. A faint breeze ran across her face, pulling her eyes to the window. It was closed. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed to have changed from what it had been from the time she entered. The faucet in the bathroom across the hall continued to run.
She lowered her hands, staring at her skin. The skin was smooth as she rubbed it. Then her eyes landed on her sleeve. From under the cuff, something began to move.
Her pulse ticked up as she stared at it. Slowly, the lump traveled down toward her wrist.
“What the…” she whispered. Her eyes tracked the movement until she couldn’t bear to wait. She pulled the sleeve back and stared at a large ant that slowly continued to move down her arm.
She slapped at it without thinking. The creature didn’t move. Without warning, a fiery pain shot through Carol’s skin, as if the thing had bitten her.
“No, no, this isn’t real,” she murmured. Her eyes flicked to the top of her sleeve. Another lump began to form, slowly moving under the silk of her sleeve.
She tore at the area, striking her arm as she watched more lumps form and move.
She closed her eyes as she began to tear at the fabric, feeling the urge to tear through her own skin until the sensation stopped.
“Make it stop, please!” she screamed as tears welled in her eyes.
“Make it fucking stop!” Her voice didn’t carry through the room. It seemed to die as soon as it left her mouth.
Slowly, she raised her eyes to the window. It had been locked since she entered the room, since the sensations had started. She didn’t remember locking it. Slowly, she forced herself to stand, wincing at the marks on her arms. The blood stained the soft fabric of her blouse.
The only release she could think of was just beyond the window. Where the sounds would stop—where the echoes would stop.
Slowly, she forced herself to move toward the window. As she reached for it, a coldness spread through her limbs. Not the same she had felt in the shower when she had turned it on. This felt as though it was coming from inside her, as if something had entered her and refused to let her feel the warmth of her own blood pulsing through her body.
She shivered once, rubbing her arms vigorously, not finding any release.
When she gripped the window sill and yanked it up, the window gave without resistance.
“What the hell,” she muttered. It had been locked when she checked it an hour ago. Slowly, she looked behind her.
Just jump. Just end it. The thought echoed like a command through her mind, looping over and over as if it was locked into her mind.
She stuck her head out, staring at the traffic five floors down. People passed under her without looking up.
“Hey, hey, I’m up here, help me!” she screamed, her heart racing as she tried to speak. The words caught in her throat as if something was covering her mouth. No one looked at her. Everyone continued as they were.
“Plea—” The words choked off as she felt herself falling forward. The ground rushed up at her as the sensation of falling overtook her body. A sharp pain shot through her body, then darkness flooded her senses.
The silence was absolute and unwavering.
Quiet Pressure Thrillers
The pressure continues in the Quiet Pressure Thrillers Dive into the series on Amazon
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