TWENTY EIGHT: OUR ROOM

I knew this was not real.

In the room which I was in, the walls bathed in the orange glow of the small ceiling light, the star encircled with chalk, the skull. It was all the same. And I was lying on the floor, my head leaning against a wall.

No, wait! It was me leaning against a wall and if that was me, then how could I see myself from a different angle?

It was horrifying how I could see myself and the cafe owner and the blonde chanting prayers in the basement. It was like a part of me projecting out and viewing everything from a third person’s eye. I remembered that I was hit with something hard on my back and then passed out.

But why did they take me?

“Be quick, Samantha. This evil needs to be wiped out.” the man said, his big eyes staring down at my unconscious form.

Evil?

“I am trying!” the blonde whose name was Samantha shouted, annoyance clear in her face, “Are you sure it is her, Ben?”

“I know it. I can feel it, even from here.” The man named Ben said, his eyes drifting into no