ALLISON.
The basement passage was pitch black and the air damp and stale. No light. No fresh air. It was straight out of a nightmarish horror movie we used to watch as kids. Only this time, we were the protagonists. The place was so dark I couldn’t see a thing, but Sullivan’s grip on my hand was firm, guiding me through the darkness.
The memory hit me out of nowhere, Sullivan holding my hand when we were kids, guiding me through the woods after I’d fallen and scraped my knee. He used to tease me mercilessly, but once I started crying, he would promptly stop teasing me. Instead, he would hold my hand and assure me everything will be alright. He was that kind of brother to me.
My chest ached at the memory.
“By the way, why do we have to go to this scary passage to get out? Isn’t there an
