Michael's world narrowed to the pain in his ears, the trickle of blood flowing down his neck. The laughter drilled into his skull like nails, each peal twisting deeper, pulling at threads he didn't know were there.
His hands pressed harder against his ears, but it was useless. The sound seeped through, a mocking echo that filled every corner of his mind.
He curled tighter, knees to chest, the cold floor freezing his back through the jacket. The happy place he'd tried to summon, a quiet beach from some old family trip, waves lapping soft and steady, shattered under the invasion.
There they were, his reflections, wading into the surf with demonic grins, splashing shadows that turned the water black. One lounged on the sand, arms behind its head, while another built a castle that crumbled into its face, over and over.
"Stop," he gasped, voice muffled against his knees.
