She took another step forward, wincing from the discomfort as she rubbed her arms and gritted her teeth. Her skin was pierced and stabbed, although whether those sensations came from inside of her or outside, she was no longer certain. But her instincts demanded something different. She wasn’t sure what to do now: Her training told her to walk away, call for help, and bring them back here. Violet’s heart raced and her entire body itched as if she were being gouged by a million tiny thorns. Something solid and out of place in a building that had been stripped all the way down to its studs. begging to be found.Īhead of her, she could see something in the darkness. Especially now, when the echo was so strong, and she was so close. trying to think past the overpowering need to find the dead and be aware for her own safety.īut it wasn’t easy. It hadn’t always been like this she hadn’t always been so careful. Moving more slowly, but still cautious of her surroundings, Violet continued toward the echo.

She shook her head, ignoring both the sting and the concerns that refused to be silent now. ” She wheezed as she reached up to knead the puckered flesh of her arm so hard she worried it might bruise. She gripped the exposed wood of the doorjamb to steady herself. She reached a doorway and the prickling shot through her arms and legs, surprising her and making her gasp. The last thing she wanted to do was to trip and fall on the glass-littered floor. But after a moment, when the need to follow the echo became too strong, she started moving again, her feet shuffling over the concrete and kicking debris out of her path. “I’m okay,” she whispered into the emptiness around her, telling herself she should stop. She paused, her stomach tightening as her eyes searched the shadows, trying to discern one shape from another, trying to convince herself that she was all alone in here. Her feet crunched over broken glass, the sound slicing its way through the calm that had settled over her, blanketing her fears and dulling the rhythm of her heart.

It was almost completely black in this part of the abandoned warehouse. If she turned one way, the sensation weakened. Like the prickling sensation of sitting on your foot for too long. And even though it wasn’t painful, or even uncomfortable, it was still. She didn’t know how exactly to describe what was leading her-pulling her. It wasn’t the kind of thing she could see or hear, making it all the more difficult to pinpoint. VIOLET STRAINED, SEARCHING FOR THE SENSATION through the suffocating blackness.

The Last Echo by Kimberly Derting