Things Slip Through
No monster.
There’d been no monster when he’d crashed through the door and there was nothing now save some old cans and a broken bottle, pieces of trash, a doll with a cracked face slumped in the corner and wallpaper peeling in jagged strips. Nothing else here now, but seconds ago . . .
No.
Couldn’t be.
Seconds ago, he’d rushed into this room, axe raised high, and he’d seen it happening all over again. Scott, hanging from that floor beam, dangling, about to fall . . .
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