Blue Haven by Lisa King

Author:Lisa King [King, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-23T15:06:33+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

Aloe stared at Bibs, unable to properly digest the horror unfolding before her. His eye was a crude red—not partially, but fully: an exploded blood vessel. Every bit of white was covered in crimson spiderwebs. Her stomach shriveled further as the eyeball itself began to leak, like a water balloon deflating down his cheek in a pink, shiny stream, until there was nothing left but a hollow cavity. Veins tangled like barbed wire, exposed, as the gash reappeared in a single blink, parceling straight through his forehead.

She stared, gaping, at the table below, where a stream of blood was starting to pool, staining the fluffy white rice a dreadful, nauseating red. She closed her eyes, trying to stifle the image.

“Aloe?”

It was Bob. Her lids flipped open, strategically aimed at Bob—not horror-show Bibs—but the man staring back flipped her stomach. His skin was methyl yellow and shriveled like a dry apple; eyes listless, filmy. Matted facial hair clotted along his chin, gray and tinged with dust.

She couldn’t hide the disgust on her face, each second exposing a shattering new discovery. Am I dreaming? This must be a nightmare. Her eyes traveled one place over, to Franny—or a version of Franny that lifted her sanity and tossed it aside. Franny’s skin was an ashen form of jaundice, a shade of flesh that didn’t belong to the living. Thin, patchy hair clumped like islands along her scalp, separated by baldness.

“Aloe,” Franny said, her white, cracked lips parting to reveal a set of rotten teeth. “What’s wrong?”

Aloe stood, aware of the eyes in the room, but desperate to get the hell out of there.

Here we go again. The insane woman, making another debut.

Unable to respond, she bolted toward the elevator, her body taking full control. Her mind stepped aside—a curious bystander, watching her own disembodied movements.

Fingers punch downward arrow.

Again. Again. Again.

Arms prying open elevator doors.

Legs leaping into furthest corner.

Body huddling while eyes soak in last view of stunned friends.

She looked away until the door beeped closed and the rush of downward movement stirred her stomach. Holy shit. Her reflection flashed on each surface of the chrome interior, and the sight of her own terror summoned a rush of hot blood. Every part of her trembled.

Ding.

The elevator opened and she dashed through the lobby, keeping her eyes on the tile floor. Amir was there, by the reception desk—she could sense him peripherally—but she refused to make eye contact. Keep going. Don’t you dare look.

She flew through the doors and into the night, breaking into a run. Her sandals thrashed against the cobblestone, threatening to snap, but she persisted. Everything was shadowy and strange in the dark—except her condo, lit and alive. Almost there.

Her thumb jammed into the fingerprint entry.

Come on! Come on! Come on!

As soon as the door released she fell inside, the safety of her own lonesome space a small relief. She struggled to breathe.

In through your nose. Fill your belly with air.

The guided relaxation advice from earlier was largely ineffective with lungs so abraded.

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