Shadow Lake Vampire Society - Wendi Wilson Page 0,1

my fear of missing any telltale sounds from above. A scent of bitter copper filled my nose, and I forced myself to stop breathing it in as panic sparked in my nerves.

I needed oxygen, but I needed to not smell that scent again. I needed to pretend everything was fine, and it wasn’t what I knew it was dripping from the floorboards above to coat my skin.

I needed to wake up from the nightmare. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

“Piper.”

I recoiled in my chair, my back pressing into the cushions as Dr. Whitley’s voice cut through the memory and brought me back to the present. My eyes danced around the room, my breath steadying as I inventoried the space like she taught me to.

Two navy blue chairs. Two wooden end tables. One glass coffee table between them. One desk. Three bookshelves. Six potted plants near two large windows.

By the time my gaze returned to my therapist, my breathing had reverted to normal, and I’d managed to fully untangle myself from the memory. I swallowed thickly against the knot in my throat, then took a moment to clear it before speaking.

“Where were we?” I croaked out.

“You lost consciousness.”

“Right,” I said. “When I woke up, there were footsteps and voices above me. I tried to scream, but my voice was too weak, so I banged on the trapdoor, begging to be released in the loudest whisper I could manage. Then there was light, and I was blinded. Hands grabbed at me, and I fought them off even though I knew I needed help.”

I fell silent, the memories threatening to suck me back under. Men and women in blue uniforms and dark suits. Yellow tape. Cameras and tiny orange cones with numbers on them. Copper-colored stains on the floor and a sheet-enshrouded gurney wheeling through a gaping hole where the front door used to be.

“You were trapped there for two days,” Dr. Whitley said, rescuing me from the memory before I got sucked into its vortex again.

I shook my head, saying, “I don’t remember it. I was unconscious the whole time.”

This was the point in the session where we usually left the past and discussed the present. She’d ask me how school was, and I’d reply it was fine. She’d ask me about my home life with Mom. Also fine. Any extracurricular activities? No, but it was fine.

I relaxed back into my seat and took a deep breath. I’d made it through the hellish part and would now be rewarded with the easy questions. My muscles loosened as the tension drained out of me, only to lock back up as Dr. Whitley asked me a question she never had before.

“What do you think killed your father, Piper?”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. “What are you doing?”

She gave me a sympathetic smile before her expression turned determined.

“It’s been a year, and we’ve never addressed this. In fifty sessions, I’ve let you decide how far we go, and we’ve only talked about the details. The facts. We need to dig deeper if I’m ever going to be able to help you.”

“A bear. A bear killed my father.”

That was the answer we’d been given after the official investigation. The broken-down door. The gashes and bruises on my father’s body. The bite marks on his neck.

Only a bear could have knocked that door down. Only an animal could’ve left a human in that mangled condition.

“It was a bear,” I repeated.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, her head cocked slightly to the right as she searched my gaze for the truth.

“I do,” I answered.

But it was a lie.

I wanted to believe it. I wanted to accept the fact that in some strange and terrible twist of fate, a mad bear crashed into our vacation rental cabin and took my father from me on the fourth day of our week-long father-daughter getaway. That it was an act of nature. A cruel accident.

But I remembered the fear in my father’s eyes when he stuffed me under the floor. He knew something was coming, and that it was too late and too dangerous to run. A rampant, enraged bear would’ve taken us by surprise, killing us both. Instead, I was here, and Dad was gone, and I had to live with that pain and guilt for the rest of my life.

“It was a bear,” I muttered again, my unfocused eyes dropping to the floor.

They’d told me it was a bear, and I’d screamed at the police, and the nurses, and doctors, and everyone