The warehouse has the feel of a building long abandoned. I walk through the area where I was held, but the space is empty. There’s the cut plastic tie and strip of duct tape hanging loosely from the support pole, as if someone has torn something away. On the floor a few feet away there’s blood.
“Malcolm?”
My voice bounces back at me, too loud, too desperate.
“Is he here?”
I direct this question at the entity, but the presence inside my head is oddly silent. No, it’s more than that. The entity is no longer there. I don’t know when, exactly, it peeled away from me, but I can tell now that it has.
I turn in a slow circle, as if I could somehow spot it in the warehouse.
It’s gone, but instead of relief, nothing but dread fills me.
My footfalls follow me as I walk the perimeter of the sp
