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What’s in the Box
Layla My scream penetrates the air as I stumble away from the table. I clasp my hands over my mouth, blood thrumming in my ears as my back hits the counter, and I can no longer retreat away from the box. The smell of it… God, I can barely stand it. I gag, whirling to face the wall. Footsteps thunder in the hallway, and I turn to find Dalton skidding to a stop, his hands and shirt smeared with paint. “Layla?” His eyes leave my face and snap to the box. He straightens, closing his eyes, and slowly nods to himself as he takes a deep breath and stalks toward the table. “Stop!” I shout, but it’s too late. He calmly closes the lid and tucks it under his arm before walking out the back door. “Dalton!” “Stay inside, Layla!” I reach the screen door and push it open just as he starts walking
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