The Puppet Beneath My Skin

The knife trembled in her hand.

Not because she wanted to stab him.

Because she was fighting with every ounce of strength she had left not to.

"No..." Emma whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Please... run."

The man backed into the corner of the kitchen, knocking over a chair as he searched desperately for an escape. His eyes darted from the blade to the young woman standing before him.

She couldn't have been older than twenty-five.

She wore a simple black dress, now stained with rainwater from the storm outside. Dark hair clung to her face, and mascara mixed with tears as she struggled against an invisible force.

"What do you mean 'run'?" he stammered.

"I don't..." she cried. "I don't want to hurt you."

Her arm jerked upward.

The knife pointed directly at his throat.

"No!" she screamed, not at him, but at herself.

Every muscle in her body burned. She could feel her own fingers gripping the handle, yet they no longer belonged to her. It was as if invisible strings had been tied to every bone in her body.

She was still inside herself.

Still awake.

Still watching.

But no longer in control.

Her feet stepped forward.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each movement happened against her will.

"Please..." she begged. "Call the police."

"I already tried!" the man shouted. "The phones are dead!"

Of course they were.

They were always dead.

Emma had awakened in different homes for the past three nights. Different cities. Different victims.

She remembered every second.

Every scream.

Every stab.

Every drop of blood.

She had begged each of them to escape.

None had.

She remembered waking afterward miles away with blood on her hands and no memory of how she'd gotten there.

Until tonight.

Tonight she remembered everything.

Because whatever controlled her wanted her to remember.

Something laughed inside her head.

Not a voice.

A feeling.

Cold.

Ancient.

Patient.

Her wrist twisted violently.

The knife swung.

The man ducked just in time, and the blade buried itself in the wall behind him.

For one miraculous second...

Emma regained control.

"Window!" she screamed.

He hesitated.

"GO!"

He dove through the nearby window, shattering the glass as he disappeared into the rain.

Relief flooded her.

Then her body turned.

Slowly.

Mechanically.

Toward the broken window.

"No..."

She dug her heels into the hardwood floor.

Her muscles strained until they felt ready to tear apart.

She couldn't stop walking.

Outside, the man limped across the yard toward the street.

Cars passed.

No one noticed.

Emma's bare feet crunched over broken glass as she stepped into the rain.

The storm soaked her hair instantly.

"Please don't make me," she whispered.

The laughter returned.

This time...

It answered.

He escaped because I allowed it.

Emma froze.

The words hadn't come through her ears.

They bloomed inside her skull.

I wanted you to hope.

She dropped the knife.

Or rather...

She tried to.

Her fingers refused to release it.

The blade lifted again.

The man looked back.

Their eyes met across the yard.

He saw the horror in hers.

Not hatred.

Not rage.

Pure desperation.

He understood.

"You need help!" he yelled.

Emma's lips moved without permission.

"We're past help."

The voice wasn't hers.

It was lower.

Older.

Layered, as though a hundred people had spoken at once.

The man took another step backward.

Rain washed across the knife.

Across Emma's face.

Across the footprints leading toward him.

She screamed inside her own mind.

Move.

Move!

Please!

Her body smiled.

She had never smiled like that before.

It stretched too wide.

Too slowly.

Like someone practicing how humans looked.

The creature wearing her skin took another step.

Then another.

The man turned and ran.

Emma silently begged the darkness to let him live.

Instead, she felt herself accelerating.

Faster.

Faster than any human should move.

Her feet barely touched the ground.

Within seconds she tackled him into the mud.

The knife hovered inches above his chest.

"No..." Emma sobbed internally. "Please..."

The man's terrified eyes locked onto hers.

"I know you're still in there."

For the first time...

The creature hesitated.

Just long enough for Emma to gather every fragment of will she still possessed.

Every memory.

Every birthday.

Every laugh with her mother.

Every bedtime story.

Every sunrise.

Every reason she had ever wanted to live.

With one impossible act of defiance, she forced the blade sideways.

It plunged into her own shoulder instead.

Agonizing pain exploded through her body.

The creature shrieked.

Not aloud.

Inside her.

The scream was so violent that the night itself seemed to vibrate.

The invisible strings snapped.

Emma collapsed into the mud, finally in control of her own body.

The man crawled away, too stunned to speak.

She watched him disappear into the darkness.

Then she looked at the knife buried in her shoulder.

Blood spread across the black fabric of her dress.

She smiled through the pain.

She had won.

At least...

Until she noticed her right hand.

It was moving again.

Slowly.

On its own.

Her fingers wrapped around the knife's handle.

Emma's smile vanished.

A familiar whisper echoed through her mind.

Good.

Now we know you can fight back.

That will make tomorrow's game much more interesting.