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“Blue,” I shout.

The movement comes again, and skin slides against mine. A choked sound of revulsion erupts from my throat. I regrip the bath’s sides, but before I can shove myself up and out, two hands erupt from the water. They’re pale-skinned and gnarled. Dead-looking. But some way, somehow, they’re alive in my fucking bath water, and before I can move, they fasten onto my hips and tug. I slide against porcelain, flailing, and thrash as my head goes under, slamming my elbows and knees into the bath’s hard sides.

For one incredible moment, I break free, coming up for air. I spit and gulp, tasting salt and gagging. “Blue!” I scream.

The hands erupt around my torso, and I cry out in horror before the strong grip takes me under again. The sound of my hands banging against the porcelain are dull thuds under the surface, and my shouts are silent as fingers dig into my ankles.

I’m descending down, down, down. Beyond the bath, beyond the confines of the room and the cottage. I thrash, looking upward. Above me, a wide expanse of blue gleams, spackled with stars, and my lungs burn as I fight frantically against the constant pull downward. It’s no good.

One of the hands slides over my face and gently tugs at my hair in a horrible mockery of tenderness. I groan helplessly. The touch is impossibly worse than the earlier cruel grip.

My struggles get weaker and weaker until everything goes dark.

CHAPTER 8

BLUE

“Blue!”

The shout fills the room, loud and echoing in my head.

“What the fuck?” I gasp, sitting bolt upright. “What’s happening?”

Through the fog in my brain, I take in details of the bedroom and the bed where my legs are tangled with the covers. There’s nothing.

No Levi. The realisation dawns just as the shout comes again. “Blue!”

Levi’s calling me, panicked. I’m off the bed and running. “Levi!” I shout, pulling at the door and fumbling with the catch in my panic. Then it’s open and I’m bursting through and onto the landing. “Where are you?”

Silence greets me. I pause to listen, but my heart is hammering so loud in my ears that I can’t hear anything else. Then I hear a thud and a splash.

The bathroom.

In two paces, I’m over the landing and flinging the door open. It rebounds off the wall, and I put my hand up to stop it smacking me in the face on the way back.

Levi’s sitting in the bath, his hair and face wet. Even as I look at him, he rubs his hand down his face, clearing away the water. He seems fine.

“What’s the matter?” I gasp, leaning against the door. My knees feel weak. “Why did you shout like that?”

He stares at me for a long second. “I—” He stops to clear his throat. “I didn’t.”

I blink. “Yes, you did. I heard you.”

“Maybe you were dreaming.”

I step into the room. “I wasn’t dreaming.” I’m suddenly uncertain. “Was I?”

After a few moments of silence, he stirs. “Maybe I did shout for you. I slipped in the bath and hit my head. I must have shouted then.” He pauses before muttering, “Sorry.”

“Why the hell are you apologising for that?” I move towards the bath. “Are you alright?” I ask anxiously. Bangs on the head can be serious. I still remember a lad at a squat falling over and banging his head on a table. He was dead hours later. I reach out and cup his face. “Let me see⁠—”

He shoves my hand away and jerks back, his whole body a cringing line of repulsed rejection.

“Levi?” I gasp.

“I’m okay,” he snaps.

That’s debatable. I lift my hand to try again to touch him and see if there’s a lump on his head, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the startlingly off-putting body language, or his cross expression. Probably both. Levi rarely gets angry, and I don’t think he’s ever pushed me away like he just did. I lower my hand, unable to stop feeling a little hurt. But I shouldn’t be. He’s probably just embarrassed.