The Devil She Knows
Camille
I stare at the rustic red brick wall before me, tapping the bricks with my fingertips to that song in my head.
Run and catch, the meadow's calling you home...
I tap one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
On the eighth count I blink, then I'm running through the meadow. A bird flies high in the sky, and the sun is bright and warm on my skin, tempting me to chase it. I run toward the sun but it disappears, and blackness swallows me whole.