Lilac’s P.O.V. That night I dreamt of eyes watching me through the shadows, a cell with bars that sparkled like liquid moonlight, and of a laugh that felt both familiar but foreign. It wasn’t the Whisperer; I knew that much. Before I had the chance to identify the cold, cunning laugh, the sound of

“Why are you here?” He shrugged, “I have nothing better to do. Besides, you’re one of my whisper’s now.” I grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink and lowered myself onto the ledge of the tub. A few minutes later I had everything I needed sitting on the sink. The bottle of alcohol sloshed

He rolled his lip between his teeth, his pale eyes bright with anger. Such a small action shouldn’t have affected me, yet it sucked the very air from my lungs. Sparks licked their way down my jaw and neck, culminating at the peak of my shoulder. Their musical hum filled my head with static. I was no

My hands clenched into fists, as though I could physically beat this all-consuming pain away. “But she never made it.” I knew the ending of this tale. It had been whispered by the townspeople for as long as I could remember. There had been so much blood that the grass had been painted black for a we

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I needed the outlet and I’d happily dislocate my shoulder again if it meant kicking her ass.” “She dislocated your shoulder?” His fury was amusing considering his past betrayal. That was his problem though, not mine. I rummaged through the pocket of my sweats until I fou