The Episodes

10, 9, 8. As the numbers counted down in my head, my vision began to blur at the edges, like someone was slowly turning down the brightness on a screen. The world around me took on a strange, washed-out quality—colors bleeding into one another like watercolors left in the rain. 7, 6, 5. My fingertips started tingling, that familiar pins-and-needles sensation crawling up my arms. I closed my eyes to make it easier on myself, to block out the spinning room and the way the walls seemed to pulse with each number. 4, 3, 2...1.

The cold, hard floor met my cheek with a sharp crack that I barely registered. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I saw flashes—images that never quite made sense. A dark hallway. Running footsteps. Someone was calling a name I couldn't quite hear. Then nothing.

This happened all the time, more often than I wished it did, and I knew that one day it would get me in danger—a lot more danger than even I could imagine.

When I came to, I was still on my bedroom floor, the afternoon sunlight streaming through my window at a different angle than before. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty. I'd lost track of time again. I pushed myself up slowly, my head throbbing with that familiar post-episode ache.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand, making me flinch.

"Are you coming to the party tonight?"

I rolled my eyes. Annie had been talking about it all week, and I still hadn't fully thought about going or not. The idea of being surrounded by drunk strangers, loud music, and chaos made my stomach twist. What if I had another episode there? What if the countdown started in the middle of a crowded room?

"Do I have a choice?" I typed back. This was a stupid question to ask. The answer was always the same every time, and yet here I was asking...again.

"I mean you don't have to....But come on! I don't want to be all alone, what if something happens!...pleasee Mary, I promise I'll make it up to you!"

Yep, I was right. I could have bet on that and I'd always win. Although we both knew that I never asked for favors back. After all, I was the one who owed her a lot for saving me back then. That night I tried not to think about. The night everything changed.

"Fine. I'll go."

I hated parties—actually, that was an understatement. I despised parties. But Annie always dragged me along. She may seem cute and innocent, but she was always the one who ended up making out with some random guy while I sat in the corner trying to keep my distance from all guys and, truthfully, anyone in general.

"Yay! I'll see you there! Love you bestie!" She hung up before I could respond. Probably so that I couldn't change my mind about going with her.

I sighed and put my phone down, staring at my closet with dread. Now I had to find something to wear. I pulled open the doors and surveyed my options—mostly dark colors, nothing flashy. Nothing that would draw attention. After pushing through hangers for a few minutes, I decided I'd wear something comfortable. After all, it was going to be a very long night. I pulled out a black hoodie and some jeans to seem slightly put together. Not that I even cared how I looked these days anyway.

I got dressed slowly, my body still feeling heavy from the episode. As I reached for my jewelry box, my fingers found the bracelet—the one I always wore. I'd had it since one of my...episodes. I didn't know where it came from, but it had a name engraved on the inside that I didn't recognize: *Alec*.

I turned it over in my hands, studying the delicate silver chain and the small charm dangling from it. Who was Alec? Why did I have this? The questions circled in my mind like they always did, never finding answers. I'd thought about throwing it away, but something about it told me not to lose it. Some instinct I couldn't explain. So I slipped it back on my wrist, feeling the cool metal settle against my skin like it belonged there.

I rushed downstairs to eat something because I knew I wouldn't want to push past people making out just to get a sandwich later. The kitchen was quiet, almost too quiet, and I found myself eating mechanically—a granola bar, some crackers, anything to settle my nervous stomach.

Bzzz bzz. A message popped up on my phone.

"Are you ready for the party?"

I ignored it until I finished eating, letting Annie's text sit unanswered while I tried to psych myself up for what was coming. The familiar dread was already settling in my chest like a stone. Finally, I picked up my phone to respond.

"As ready as I can be I guess."

I grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter, the metal cold against my palm, and headed out of the house. I checked and double-checked that my front door was locked before leaving, then checked it one more time. Just in case.

The drive to the bar felt both too long and too short. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, and I had to consciously remind myself to breathe normally. When I finally pulled into the parking lot, I could already hear the bass thumping from inside, feel it vibrating through my car door. Through the tinted windows of the venue, I could see strobing lights—blue, then red, then purple—flashing in chaotic patterns that made my head hurt just looking at them.

I sat in my car for a full three minutes, watching people stumble in and out of the entrance. A couple was making out against the brick wall. Someone was throwing up in the bushes. This was a mistake. This was always a mistake.

But I'd promised Annie.

I took a deep breath—then another—trying to prepare myself for five hours of boredom, anxiety, and watching gross makeouts. The countdown hadn't started again since this afternoon, but I could feel it lurking at the edges of my consciousness. Waiting.

Once I finally forced myself out of the car and walked through the entrance, the assault on my senses was immediate and overwhelming. The music was so loud it felt physical, like it was pressing against my chest and making my ribcage vibrate. Some remix of a pop song I vaguely recognized, but distorted and bass-boosted until it was almost unrecognizable. The air was thick and hot, heavy with the smell of sweat, cheap cologne, spilled beer, and something sweet and artificial—probably from whatever fruity drinks they were serving.

The lights were worse than I'd imagined. Strobes cut through the darkness in disorienting flashes, making everyone's movements look jerky and unnatural, like a film with frames missing. Colored spotlights swept across the crowd—bodies pressed together, dancing, grinding, stumbling. My eyes struggled to adjust, and I felt that familiar tightness starting in my chest.

I scanned the room methodically, the way I always did now. Exits first—front door behind me, emergency exit to the left near the bathrooms, another one past the bar. Then threats. My eyes moved over faces, looking for anyone who seemed too focused, too still, too interested in watching rather than participating. It was a habit I'd developed after that night. The night I tried not to think about.

There were too many people. Way too many. Bodies everywhere, pressed against the bar, clustered around high-top tables, swaying on the makeshift dance floor. The crowd seemed to pulse and shift like a living thing, and I had to fight the urge to turn around and leave.

I headed toward the bar because I knew Annie would probably be there out of all places—that is, if she hadn't already found her victim of the night. I kept to the edges of the room, avoiding the densest parts of the crowd, my shoulders hunched and my hands shoved in my hoodie pockets.

That's when I spotted him. George. He was leaning against the far end of the bar, nursing what looked like whiskey, his eyes scanning the crowd with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He was here every weekend, far too old to fit in with the college crowd, but no one ever seemed to question it. I'd learned to avoid him, to stay off his radar. But tonight, his gaze swept past me, then snapped back. Our eyes met for just a second before I quickly looked away.

My heart rate picked up. I moved faster, weaving between people, trying to put distance between us.

Finally, I spotted Annie and she rushed up to me with two drinks in her hands, her face flushed and her eyes bright. She was already tipsy—I could tell by the way she swayed slightly as she walked. She held one of the drinks out to me, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

"Want a drink?" she shouted over the music, her voice barely audible even though she was right next to me.

I sighed. Here we go. Another roller coaster night.

"I don't drink, you know that," I said, having to lean close to her ear so she could hear me.

"That's not true, you used to." She was right. I did used to, but I stopped after 'that' night when we officially met. The night everything changed. The night she saved me from something I still couldn't fully remember.

Annie's smile faltered slightly, and I saw the moment she remembered why I'd stopped.

"Right...sorry." She pulled the drink back, looking genuinely apologetic for a moment before her attention was caught by something—or someone—across the room. "Oh! There's Jake! I'll be right back, okay?"

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with both drinks still in her hands, leaving me standing alone near the bar. I should have known this would happen. It always happened.

I turned to find a corner, somewhere I could make myself small and invisible for the next few hours, but I'd barely taken two steps when I felt it—that prickling sensation on the back of my neck that told me someone was watching me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Mary." George's voice was too close, his breath hot against my ear as he appeared beside me. The smell of whiskey was overwhelming, mixed with something else—cologne that was too strong, too cloying. "Fancy seeing you here."

I took a step back, but he moved with me, closing the distance I'd tried to create. My back hit the edge of a high-top table, trapping me.

"I was just leaving," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to sound casual even though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

"Already? But you just got here." His smile didn't reach his eyes. They were dark, calculating, and fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach turn. "Let me buy you a drink. We can get to know each other better."

"No, thank you. I really need to—"

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn't easily pull away. "Come on, don't be like that. One drink. What's the harm?"

The harm was that every instinct in my body was screaming at me to run. The harm was that his grip was tightening, his thumb pressing against the inside of my wrist where my pulse was racing. The harm was that we were in a crowded room but somehow no one was looking, no one was paying attention, and I was alone with a man who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Let go," I said, louder this time, trying to pull my arm back.

"Just one drink, Mary. Don't make this difficult."

And then I felt it. That familiar sensation, but different this time. Stronger. More urgent.

No. Not now. Not here.

My vision started to blur at the edges, but I could still see George's face, still see the way his expression shifted from predatory charm to something darker when he realized I was trying to pull away.

"You okay there?" he asked, but there was no concern in his voice. Only interest. Curiosity. Like he was watching an experiment unfold.

The tingling started in my fingertips, spreading up my arms faster than usual. The room tilted slightly, and I grabbed the edge of the table with my free hand, trying to steady myself.

"Let go of me," I managed to say, but my voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater.

George's grip tightened. "Hey, maybe you should sit down. You don't look so good."

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything was spinning, and I couldn't tell if George was moving closer or if I was falling toward him. The faces around us blurred into indistinct shapes, and the noise of the party became a roar in my ears.

I saw flashes—more vivid than usual. A dark hallway. Running. Someone shouting my name, but not my name. A different name. The bracelet on my wrist suddenly felt hot, burning against my skin.

"Mary? Mary!" George's voice sounded far away now, and I couldn't tell if he was still holding my wrist or if I'd already fallen. The world was tilting, spinning, dissolving into fragments of light and shadow.

The darkness swallowed me whole.

But this time, the darkness wasn't empty. I was running through that hallway again, but now I could see more details. Wooden floors. Paintings on the walls. A door at the end, slightly ajar, with light spilling through. Someone was calling that name again—the one I couldn't quite hear, couldn't quite remember. Footsteps behind me, getting closer. A hand reaching out.

Then a different voice, cutting through the chaos. Deep. Urgent. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache even though I'd never heard it before.

"I've got you."

The images shattered like glass, and I was falling through darkness, through silence, through nothing at all.