Riley
I dreamt of their faces.
The foster mother who locked me in the closet. The foster father who drank. The girl from the group home who called me a freak.
Empty.
Monster.
Freak.
I woke up gasping.
---
My back didn't hurt.
I touched the wound. Dry. No blood. The skin was pink. New.
It had been one night.
What the hell?
---
Sasha was watching me. Her eyes moved to my back. To the healed skin.
"That's not possible," she said.
"I know."
"You're like him now. Allen."
I thought about it. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm something else."
She didn't push. But she kept watching.
---
The faces didn't leave.
Mira. Sam. The boy with the axe. Floating at the edges of my vision. Whispering.
I blinked. They stayed.
I blinked again. Still there.
"Riley?" Sasha's voice.
"What?"
"You're staring at nothing."
"No, I'm not."
She didn't believe me. I could see it in her eyes.
---
We found the Stalker at midday.
Standing in the middle of the trail. Not attacking. Just watching.
The others panicked. Marcus raised his bow. His hands were shaking.
I walked toward it.
"Riley, don't—"
I touched its face. Cold. Hard. Leather skin.
Hurt. Alone. Hungry.
The Stalker lowered its head.
"Stay," I said.
It stayed.
---
Sasha pulled me aside that night.
"You're not fine," she said.
"I know."
"You're seeing things. Hearing things. You healed overnight. You touched a Stalker and it didn't kill you."
"I know what happened."
"Do you?" She stepped closer. "Because sometimes you look at me like you don't know who I am. Like you're someone else."
I didn't answer.
"Riley. Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she nodded. But her eyes didn't stop watching.
---
The next morning, I woke up different.
I felt it before I opened my eyes. Colder. Sharper. Like someone else was driving.
Sasha brought me water. I looked at her. She flinched.
"Riley?"
"What?"
"Your eyes. They're different."
I blinked. "They're the same."
"No. They're not."
I stood up. Walked away. I didn't want her looking at me like that.
Behind me, I heard her whisper.
"Who are you?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know anymore.
---
The Stalkers gathered at dusk.
Eight of them. Standing at the edge of camp. Watching. Waiting.
The others were terrified. Marcus couldn't stop shaking.
I walked to the largest Stalker. Touched its face.
Hurt. Alone. Hungry.
"I know," I whispered.
It bowed its head.
Behind me, someone was crying. Someone was praying.
I didn't care.
---
"Riley."
Sasha's voice. Soft. Careful.
I turned. She was standing a few feet away. Her bow was on the ground. Her hands were empty.
"You're scaring me," she said.
"Good."
"That's not what I meant." She took a step closer. "You're not acting like yourself. You're colder. Meaner. Like something else is... inside you."
I looked at her. At the scar on her jaw. At the fear in her eyes.
"Maybe there is."
"Then fight it."
"I don't know how."
She reached out. Touched my hand.
"Then let me help you."
I looked at her hand. At mine. At the space between.
For a second, the cold lifted. Just a second.
Then it came back.
---
End of Chapter Eleven