Chapter 160: Madeline
The window is going to break.
I’m almost sure of it.
It’s rattling so hard in the frame that each gust of wind feels like it might shatter the glass into a thousand sharp pieces. The whole house is groaning—ancient beams creaking, floorboards shivering under the weight of the storm.
Rain slams against the roof like handfuls of gravel, fast and sharp and endless. Like the wind’s trying to dig its way inside. I tighten the comforter around me and try to focus on the book I’ve been pretending to read for twenty minutes.
I can’t absorb a single word.
The storm is too loud. Too alive.
A gust howls outside, rattling the walls, and I flinch. Okay. Maybe I’m a little more unsettled than I thought.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it like it’s a lifeline and blink at the notification.
A new group chat.
Reid: You okay?
My heart squeezes. I didn’t realize how much I needed that message until I saw it.
I tap out a reply.
Me: What year was this house built again?
Jake: 1900s. Why?
Me: This might be its last night.
There’s a pause, and then Reid’s name lights up again.
Reid: Want us to come get you?
I stare at the screen.
The storm is worse now than it was when we docked. The house is old, yes, but it’s held on this long. I’m warm, dry, safe. I know they’d come if I asked. Without hesitation. But the idea of them driving through this for me makes my chest twist.
Me: No, I’m okay.
I hit send.
The message hangs. Just… sits there.
A spinning circle mocks me for a full ten seconds before finally blinking out. Great. Signal’s going to crap.
Another ping.
Jake: Our service is garbage. Storm’s probably messing with the towers.
Me: Makes sense. I’ll see you both tomorrow.
Reid: Sleep with something heavy by the window. Just in case.
I grin.
Me: Like what? Jake’s ego?
Jake: Hilarious.
Reid: That’s fair.
I bite back a laugh, and for a moment, the storm fades into the background. I silence the chat, flip the phone face-down, and settle deeper under the covers.
The wind screams like it’s furious. But somehow, I don’t feel so alone anymore.
I pick up my book again—not because I’m focused enough to read, but because it gives my hands something to do.
Outside, the world is chaos. But inside, I’m warm. Inside, I know they’re only a phone call away.
Even if the roof blows off.
...
I must have fallen asleep.
My book is lying open across my face, the words printed onto my skin like ghosts when I peel it away. The lamp is still on, painting everything in this soft golden light that almost feels safe. Almost.
The storm hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s worse. The window rattles so hard the frame shakes, and the rain sounds like gravel pelting the glass. I can feel the wind pushing against the walls, this deep, angry groan that makes my stomach twist.
I sit up, blink the sleep out of my eyes, and grab my phone. 10:12 p.m.
Only ten? It feels like I’ve been asleep for a lifetime.
I sigh, close the book, and stand to turn off the light. My legs are heavy, my head thick with leftover exhaustion. I’m halfway to the switch when—
The light goes out.
Not dims. Not flickers. Just—gone.
Dark.
I stop breathing. The silence is instant, deafening. No heater hum. No soft buzz of electricity. Just the sound of the storm clawing at the house.
Then the sound of my heartbeat.
I reach for the switch. Flip it once. Twice. Again. The click echoes through the room like a gunshot.
Nothing.
My fingers start to shake.
The messages come back to me like a flash.
Hey.
How have you been?
I miss you.
I need to see you again.
The words crawl across my brain like insects, slick and wrong and cold.
No. No, no, no. I changed my number. I changed my number.
There’s no way.
My pulse starts to race, the room closing in, air thinning. My breath comes short, like I’m breathing through water.
And then—
BANG.
The sound rips through the house.
Once.
Then again.
BANG.
The door. Someone is hitting my door.
My heart slams into my ribs.
No. It can’t be. It can’t.
“Madeline!”
The voice is muffled through the wood, but it hits me like a blade to the chest. My vision goes black around the edges.
“Madeline, open the door!”
I can’t move.
No, it’s not him. It can’t be. He’s gone. He doesn’t know where I am. No one does.
Another BANG.
“Open the door or I'll have to—”
The storm swallows the rest of the words, but I don’t need to hear them. I’ve heard them before.
Every part of me goes cold.
The air feels thick. My knees buckle, and I crash to the floor, hands shaking so violently I can’t even catch myself. The darkness wraps around me, presses against me, and I can see it—see the flash of that night like it’s playing behind my eyelids.
The same blackout. The same tone.
You can’t hide from me, Maddie.
The pounding fists. The sound of his breath, ragged and furious.
The way he said my name like a weapon.
The sound at the door grows louder. Closer.
“Madeline!”
He’s here. He’s here.
I scramble back on hands and knees, gasping for air, until my back hits the side of the bed. My fingers dig into the sheets, nails tearing at the fabric. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
The door shudders. Dust falls from the frame.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t do this.”
My voice cracks. It sounds like a child’s.
Another slam shakes the handle.
I cry out and cover my ears, curl into myself, but the storm and the pounding blend together until I can’t tell which is which.
He found me.
He found me.
I can smell him—sweat, whiskey, rain. I can feel the echo of his grip on my wrists, his breath on my neck. My brain can’t tell the difference anymore between memory and now.
He’s outside. He’s here. He’s screaming my name over and over again.
“Madeline!”
I choke on a sob and press my hands over my mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to make a sound, but my body betrays me. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop crying.
I curl tighter, knees to my chest, my body trembling against the cold floor. The room feels smaller, like it’s folding in on me.
The banging stops. For a moment, the silence feels worse.
Then a new sound—a scrape. The handle turning.
I scream.
Everything goes black again, the sound of my own voice swallowed by the storm outside.