The Monster Within

CHAPTER ONE

MY life began again the second I pulled myself out of my grave and looked into his beautiful blue eyes. This was my second chance, and he was the one who had given it to me. I wasn’t sure if I was a living being in the traditional sense. What did you call someone who came back from the dead? A zombie? Undead? I wasn’t happy with either term. I certainly didn’t feel like a zombie. I still had all of my own thoughts and memories. It was nothing like I imagined it would be.

“Sam.” My name was barely a whisper on Ethan’s lips. Even in the dim lights of the cemetery, I could see his eyes watering at the sight of me. “It worked. You’re you again.”

I looked down at my body, inspecting every limb. I was wearing a black dress. Mom’s favorite, so I understood why she’d had me buried in it. I stared at my casket, unable to get over the fact that I’d been dead.

I raised my eyes to Ethan’s. “How did you do it?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re here.” He stepped forward and pulled me close to him, running his fingers through my long, dark hair.

I rested my cheek on his chest, wondering what lengths he had gone to in order to bring me back. Before I died, Ethan said he’d find a way for us to be together again. That he refused to lose me so soon. I had shrugged them off as the desperate words of a guy watching his seventeen-year-old girlfriend die of cancer. He’d been so amazing through all of it. He’d never left my bedside, and I remembered he’d been holding my hand when I took my last breath.

I tilted my head back to look at his tear-streaked face. “I have to know how you did it.”

“Shh,” he said softly. “I found someone who could help me, who knew what to do. Besides that, there’s nothing you need to know.”

He was keeping something from me, and that could only mean he’d done something big. Big enough that I would get upset if he told me. Still, being in his arms again was heaven. He’d given me the gift of life. How could I question that?

“How do you feel?” He held me by my shoulders and looked back and forth between my eyes. “You look like you. Everything seem okay?”

“Yeah. I feel like me. Not like a zombie or anything.”

He squeezed my shoulders. “You’re not. You’re you. I promise. I made sure of it.”

“But—”

He raised a finger to my lips. “We have to go. We can’t stay here where someone might see you.”

I hadn’t thought about that. To everyone else, I was dead. My parents, my brother Jacob, my friends—they all thought I was dead. If I waltzed back into my old life, they’d think they were seeing a ghost. That, or they’d have me turned into a lab rat to figure out how I’d come back to life. Even I didn’t have the answer to that. Only Ethan did. And what if they figured out he was responsible for me being alive again? What if they locked him up for messing with the laws of nature?

“Where are we going?” I was suddenly determined to leave as soon as possible.

“My cousin has a little cottage in the Poconos. He never uses it. It’s not in the best shape, but we’ll be okay there.” Ethan let go of me long enough to close my casket and grab a shovel. “I have to get this back the way it was. No one can suspect your body isn’t inside this grave.”

“How long was I gone?” I had no sense of time, but the flowers on my grave were fresh, so I was guessing only a matter of days.

“Four days. The four longest days of my life.” He dropped the shovel and wrapped his arms around me again.

I breathed in his scent, not even caring that he smelled mostly of dirt and sweat from digging up my casket. Besides, I couldn’t smell much better. Nobody ever made a perfume in “Dirt-Covered Corpse” scent. “I’ll help you cover the grave again.”

“No.” He let go of me and picked up the shovel. “You’ve been through enough. I’ll do it. You go wait in the car. I can’t risk anyone seeing you.”

If Ethan got caught shoveling dirt back onto my grave, he’d be in serious trouble. But he was right. If he got caught and I was standing there with him, we’d both be totally screwed. I nodded and walked to his red Mazda 6. I had always loved his car. He used to take me for long drives down back roads, where we could pretend we were the only people in the world and there was no such thing as being terminally ill at seventeen.

I watched Ethan shovel the dirt back onto my grave, and it was surreal. I couldn’t get past the feeling that I didn’t belong here. I’d been dealt my hand, and yes, it sucked, but that should’ve been the end of it. I should’ve been in the ground or in the afterlife. Ethan walked back to the car, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. He threw the shovel in the trunk and got in the car in a hurry.

“Ready?” he asked, out of breath.

Was I? I wasn’t sure, but I had to at least pretend for Ethan’s sake. Whatever he’d done, it was huge. I owed him my life.

I forced a smile. “Ready.”

He started the car, and as soon as we were out of the cemetery and on the road, he took my hand in his. Our fingers laced and rested on the middle console below the gearshift. Ethan’s car operated as either an automatic or manual. When he was alone, he always drove it manually. But when I was with him, he kept it set to automatic so he could hold my hand while he steered.

I rested my head back on the seat and took a deep breath, wondering how long it would take for me to get used to being here again. I should’ve been happy, but something was nagging me. Pulling at my thoughts and screaming, “Look out!” Maybe it was just leftover anxiety from my illness, from knowing any moment could be my last. The final days had been awful. I hadn’t been able to get out of bed. Mom and Dad had let me stay home because I hated being in the hospital. I’d spent too much time in a hospital for one lifetime. Ethan slept over every night. My parents had practically adopted him by that point. He loved me and refused to leave my side, except to use the bathroom.

Mom always said what Ethan and I had was more than high-school sweetheart stuff. Maybe she was right. Maybe the universe decided that, since I wasn’t going live long enough to get married, have kids, and grow old, I should at least get to have the love of my life before I died. I was thankful for that much.

“What are you thinking?” Ethan asked, invading my thoughts.

“You were so amazing. Through everything. You were stronger than I was.” I choked back the tears.

“Hey.” He turned to face me, lifting our hands to his mouth and kissing my fingers. “Don’t think about that. We have a second chance. This is our life now.”

I didn’t want to break his heart with all my questions about how we would survive on our own, how we would support ourselves when we hadn’t even finished high school, but I couldn’t say nothing, either.

“What’s it going to be like? Our life? Will we be hiding out in the cottage?” Coming back to life to live in fear of being seen wasn’t my ideal.

“No. We’re going to get fake IDs. We’ll enroll in school and do everything we would have if—”

“I hadn’t died.” I swallowed hard, remembering the pain the cancer had caused. “Will I have to change my name?” I never liked anyone calling me Samantha, but I’d grown fond of Sam, especially the way Ethan said it. It always sounded like a sigh. A happy, content sigh.

“You can keep Sam if you want. It’s not like anyone is going to come looking for you.”

That was true. As far as everyone knew, I was six feet under. “So you’re not keeping Ethan?” I couldn’t imagine calling him by any other name.

“Would that bother you?”

“A little.” I knew I was being a baby, wanting him to keep his name, but he was my Ethan. He always would be.

“Okay, I’ll keep Ethan then. We’ll both just change our last names.”

I nodded and gave him a weak smile. Somehow I knew a lot more than our last names was about to change. Samantha Thompson and Ethan Anderson would never be the same; to the rest of the world, we wouldn’t even exist.

It was about a five-hour drive to the cottage, not too bad. In the past, a long drive with Ethan had been heaven, but since I’d come back to life, things seemed different. Maybe Ethan thought I was the same old Sam—minus the cancer—but I wasn’t. I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was wrong. Wrong with me.

It was late, and a light rain dotted the top of the car, lulling me to sleep. You’d think after being dead, I’d feel refreshed. But I didn’t. It seemed so hard to focus on things. The streetlights were bright. The air was damp, and even though it was early fall, I was chilled.

The car stopped, and Ethan’s hand slipped from mine. I turned to him, blinking against the fluorescent lights of the gas station.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just need to get some gas and a few things from the convenience store. There’s no food at the cottage. I thought I’d grab some crackers and soda. Stuff like that. I’ll even see if they have black licorice for you. I know you love it.”

I nodded and started for my seat belt.

“No. You stay.” Ethan opened his door and stepped outside. I let my hair fall across my shoulders, trying to warm myself against the night air. “I’ll be right back.”

The trunk opened, and a moment later, Ethan opened my door, handing me one of his sweatshirts. “Here, you look cold.”

I smiled. “Thanks.” He knew me so well. I watched him walk inside the store and heard the soft click of the car locking again. He wasn’t taking any chances with me. I knew he’d protect me from anything. He’d already protected me from death. He was my everything now. I would never see my family or friends again. I had to start over. The thought terrified me, but at least I had Ethan by my side.

I hugged the sweatshirt to my body. I was too tired to actually put it on, and this way I could breathe in Ethan’s scent while I kept warm. I inhaled deeply at first, and then my breaths became shallow, which was weird considering how tired I felt. I yawned. Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Apparently it took a lot of energy to return from the dead.

I leaned my head on the window, hoping the cool glass would keep me awake, but my head spun, making me dizzy. My arms and legs tingled with the sensation of pins and needles. I felt like I had a million spiders crawling all over me. I threw the sweatshirt off me and onto the floor. My arms were bare. No spiders. But the feeling didn’t go away. I panicked. The walls of the car were caving in on me. The air around me was tight, strangling me.

I searched the convenience store windows for Ethan, but all I saw was a guy in a cowboy hat and a woman taking her little boy to the bathroom. Where was Ethan? The lightheadedness was getting worse—more intense. My breathing was labored. In a panic, I reached for the door handle. It took me a moment to remember it was locked, but when I finally got it open, I stumbled out of the car into the fresh air. I gulped oxygen into my lungs, hoping it would make me feel better, but it didn’t.

I was suffocating. Life was draining out of me. I collapsed to my knees, skinning them against the pavement. Wheezing, I crawled forward, trying to reach the convenience store door. Trying to reach Ethan. I needed help. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but it felt like I was dying…again.

The gas station was almost empty at this hour. No one was pumping gas. No one was around to help me. I lifted my head, searching the windows of the store once more. The man with the cowboy hat was at the register. That meant he’d be leaving soon, and he’d have to walk past me. I pushed myself forward more, but my arms buckled under my weight, and I fell.

“Ethan,” I choked out. This couldn’t happen again. I’d just gotten my life back. How could I die again so soon?

I pushed my foot against the pavement in an effort to creep toward the door, but my black high-heeled shoe fell off, leaving me slumped on the ground with one bare foot. I inhaled, willing my lungs to fill with air, but I only coughed in response. At least the first time I’d died, I’d known it was coming. But now…this was a shock. I didn’t know how to fight it, or if I even could.

The bell above the convenience store door jingled, and I raised my head slightly to see the man in the cowboy hat walking out. He was putting his change into his wallet and didn’t even notice me in the dark parking lot.

“Please.” My voice was barely audible.

He kept walking, removing his car keys from his pocket.

“Help,” I tried again, but he unlocked his car with a high-pitched beep of the alarm disarming.

His foot was inches from me, yet he had no idea I was there. I reached my hand toward his leg and managed to grab hold of it. The second I made contact with him, I felt his blood coursing through the veins in his leg. It tingled beneath my fingers with a warmth that felt incredible on my freezing cold hand.

He jumped and looked down at me. “You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing down there?”

“Please.” This time my voice was a little stronger. “I need help. I can’t breathe.” I released his leg, and my coughing started all over again.

“Whoa, easy there.” He bent down and studied me for a moment before reaching for my shoulders and sitting me up. “Try to calm down. Are you here alone?” He fumbled for my missing shoe and put it back on my foot.

I tried to shake my head, but I wasn’t sure if it moved at all. I felt like I was drowning. The life was draining out of me again.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s get you to the hospital. I’m going to bring you to my car.”

Before I could protest or try to mention Ethan, the man scooped me into his arms and carried me to his car. I was too weak to fight him, and he was trying to help me, so I wrapped my arms around his neck as best I could. My fingertips grazed his neck, feeling the blood coursing through his veins once again. Instinctively, my other hand reached for his neck, but this time, I traced the line of his carotid artery, letting my fingers follow it down to his chest, where I felt his heart pumping beneath his clothes. Warmth washed over me.

“Don’t panic. I’m going to get you help.” He must have been confused by what I was doing. Hell, I was confused by what I was doing, but somehow, I knew it was helping me. My breathing wasn’t as labored. The dizziness was subsiding.

He opened the rear door and started to lower me onto the back seat, head first. I slipped my fingers through the opening in his button-down flannel shirt and felt the heat of his skin.

“It’s okay,” he reassured me.

My hand was above his heart now, and I flattened my palm against his chest. My right hand remained on his neck, resting on his carotid artery. Suddenly, an intense surge of energy flowed from the man to me. His blood was pumping life into me. My lungs filled, and my chest heaved. I felt more alive than I had when Ethan brought me back. My eyes closed in response to the relief I felt. I wasn’t going to die. Whatever it was that had threatened my life was gone. I was alive again.

A wheezing sound forced my eyes open. But this time, I wasn’t the one wheezing. I stared at the man leaning into the car, hovering above me. He was no longer holding me. My back was resting on the seat. His hands gripped the seats. His face was red, and he gasped for air. He looked down at my hands, and my eyes followed his.

I could see the color returning to my limbs, but at the same time, the color was leaving the man’s face. He turned from red to purple to white. Ghostly white. Deadly white. Corpse white.

The cowboy hat fell from his head, revealing gray hair. I was sure he’d had dark hair. Why was it completely gray now? His skin felt softer under my fingers. His neck was wrinkled and aged. I was about to pull away and ask him if he was okay, when, with one final gasp, he slumped forward onto me. I let go of him and stifled a scream. What had just happened?

“Sir?” My voice was strong again but filled with fear. “Sir?”

I tried to move him, but his face was buried in the fabric of my black dress. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and the man shifted slightly to my right, falling into the small space between the front and back seats.

His eyes stared up at me, completely devoid of life.

He was dead.

I had killed him.