#Chapter 212: The Golden Knife

Moana

One moment, I was in the interrogation room with the police officer sitting across from me.

“Ms. Fowler?” he asked, standing from his seat with a worried look on his face. “Are you alright?”

My eyes were wide and my hands were shaking. I was standing with my back against the wall, feeling as though I couldn’t get a full breath into my lungs. The room felt as though it was closing in on me, and I felt trapped inside like an animal caught in a net.

And then, suddenly, I felt my knees buckle under me. I fell to the ground, and then everything went dark with only Edrick being the very last thing on my mind.

When I woke up, I was in a dark room. In fact, it was pitch black… But when I held my hands up in front of my face, I found that I could see my own hands perfectly. The room itself was black, like a void.

I called out. My voice felt thick and heavy. There was no

few minutes of waiting, there was finally an

female voice said. I immediately recognized it

a split second at the same time. Was I sleeping? Was this just a strange dream? It felt too long and vivid to just be a regular dream… I felt perfectly conscious, not at

and I started having flashbacks when he started asking about the specifics of what happened in the warehouse. No matter how hard I tried to stay focused and keep myself level-headed, I couldn’t stop seeing Ethan’s gun in front of my face. At one point, I started to hyperventilate. Yes; that had to be it. I hyperventilated and lost consciousness. Surely

I didn’t wake up. A long time passed, and I stayed in the black void. I moved around, or at least I felt like I

I started to wonder if I was dead. If this was what it was like to be dead, I thought to myself, then it was awful and lonely. The thought of being conscious with nothing but a void around me for all eternity

presence. A sort of presence, at least. I couldn’t tell if I just made it up in my mind or if it was real, and if someone else was here with me. But when I started to see Michael’s face materializing in front of me, I wished that it was neither of

a few steps back. But he didn’t speak. He just sneered at me, and eventually the rest of his body came into view as though he was loading into this new instance, like a virtual reality. His neck, then his shoulders, his arms and his chest… Then, eventually, his hands. He was holding something in one

ornate handle that had the head of a wolf on

side. I felt a gasp catch

now. The knife was raised, ready to stab me. When

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