43 She reached for the string that would unleash the promise of light, but when she turned, the dark void was already behing her. It sat at the top of her bed—frozen—almost mimicking Harper’s crouched position. She screamed as she attempted to crawl backwards. It took Harper a few moments to realize that she had moved. Staring into the darkness, she lifted her hand and let her fingers brush over her mouth. They were met with the hot touch of breath. She could move. She could speak. Harper cleared her throat. “Please, just tell me. What do you want?” The figure stayed still for a moment, never looking away from her. It lifted what looked like its arm toward her face, moving as if it was stuck in a dream. Harper whimpered as tears fell from her clouded eyes. But after a few moments, the figure retracted its reach. When it spoke, it was unlike anything Harper had ever experienced. The voice was darkness—consuming the noise around it. It filled her mind and traveled through her nerves. It was harsh and groggy, like it had never spoken before. The figure tilted its head at her. “Can I read you a story?”
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