The Haunted Traveler May 2017 Edition

98
the door closes.
“Is she awake?”
“I’m not sure, but that hospital gown is hideous.”
Voices familiar and refreshing. Comfort. Raven and
her missing arm, Shaytan balancing on his one leg.
Niles leans against the wall with Shaytan’s severed
limb resting on his shoulder like a broken umbrella.
Raven says, “She’s so thin. Her arms and legs…”
“Poor girl.”
“Yes, poor girl.”
“Oh, and they’re using restraints this time. Sad.”
“Very.”
“Restraints are serious business.”
“There’s blood on your hands,” Shaytan says, his
voice dusted with worry, “and things might be a bit
different this time around.”
I ask Niles, “How bad was it?”
Niles turns a slow head towards Raven. She bites
her lower lip, pulling a smear of black lipstick.
Deep breath, and Shaytan continues. “There was
blood, beautiful. Lots of it.”
He reaches to wipe my tears, but I pull away.
“More than broken plates and black eyes?”
“Afraid so, love. People are dead.”
“Raven?”
She raises her head. Black mascara is dry and cracked
against her cheeks.
I ask, “What should I do?”
Rain pelts against the room’s small, single window.
Darkness and shadows beat with life—flowing down
walls, sliding across the floor, and I am bound and
gasping, clawing at the bed sheets.