Chapter Twelve

                                    

                                          

                          
            Twelve
                          

                          
          “Dad, why not?” I object, following as he leaves the living room to try to get away from me. I catch him in the kitchen and stamp my foot, frustrated. “It’s two weeks away! Why can’t I go? I’ve been to her house before, many times.”
                          

                          
            I wish my mom were home. If she were, I could ask her and she would be completely fine with it.
                          

                          
            “Drop it, Sloane.” His voice is tense and he refuses to turn around to look at me. “You’re not going.”
                          

                          
            My voice grows desperate. It isn’t the fact that I can’t go, but the fact that he won’t give me a reason. He expects me to just leave it alone without questioning why he’s being unfair.
                          

                          
            “Why?” He doesn’t respond. “Why?” I repeat. “Give me one good reason why I can’t go, and I’ll drop it.”
                          

                          
            My dad whips around. His nostrils are flared and his face is red from his anger. “It’s for your safety,” he snaps. Quickly, he leaves the room and I have nothing more to say.
                          

                          
 
                          

                          
            “Sloane!” I’m still in the kitchen, staring at the doorway my father just walked through. I run my fingers through my hair, confused. “Sloane!”
                          

                          
            Suddenly I’m back, as quickly as if someone changed the channel. Jack breathes my name the third time and once my eyes adjust, I hold in a scream. A woman is standing in front of me, her gray eyes searching my face. She isn’t groaning or grasping for me, but just standing there, watching.
                          

                          
            My breaths come out in jagged gasps as she raises her arm. I know I should grab the shotgun, that I should shoot, but I’m frozen. If I move, I could startle the monster and she could attack me.
                          

                          
            Jack gasps as the woman’s fingers touch my hair. She gently pulls it away from my face and stares at it, mesmerized. For a moment, our eyes meet. There’s something different about them from the usual ones I’ve seen; something off.
                          

                          
            I hear footsteps and though I’m proud that Jack’s taking a stand for once, I can’t move. I can’t even look away from the woman’s gaze. Her eyes are piercing.
                          

                          
            We stay locked, neither of us moving. It’s like we’re searching each other’s souls and trying to see what’s inside. She drops her hand, tilts her head slightly.
                          

                          
            She’s decapitated.
                          

                          
            The ringing in my ears prevents me from registering what just happened. One moment I was looking at her, saving her mysterious, gray eyes to memories. Then the next she’s gone, her body slumping to the floor.
                          

                          
            Jagger roughly grabs the upper part of my arm before I can see that it’s him. “What the hell are you doing?” he hisses under his breath. He walks me towards Jack and Bullet, who are staring wide-eyed. Jack’s so pale I think he might throw up again.