I straightened, my stomach in knots, as Trent glanced back at me. His face was contorted into a gruesome mask of evil, and his normally blue eyes were puddles of black ink—lifeless and deranged. I cupped my hand over my mouth to stop from crying out. What was wrong with him? He smiled at me like I was the only person here, and then he bared fangs a second before he grabbed Abby and tore into her neck.
“No,” I screamed, eyes wide with terror.
Uncle Dean tightened his hold on me, and I struggled to free myself.
“No! Stop!” I screamed again.
Trent dropped Abby’s lifeless body to the ground, and then stalked toward me, his mouth dripping with her blood.
“Abby. No,” I gasped. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real. I was having a nightmare or hallucinating. Abby wasn’t dead. She wasn’t.
“You’re next, Chloe.” Trent grinned, showing off his blood-covered fangs.
Limbs trembling and knees weak, I backed up. “No, no, no.” I sobbed.
Trent advanced on me, each of his steps matching two of mine. There was no way I could outrun him. I whipped my head around, looking for someone, anyone, to help me. But everyone was too immersed in the funeral. Didn’t they see what a monster Trent was? Didn’t they care he’d killed Abby? Why was no one paying attention?
Trent reached for me.
I shrieked. “No. Don’t. Don’t touch me!” I dropped to the ground and clutched fistfuls of my hair, rocking on my knees. Tears streamed down my face. “Please. Go away. Leave me alone.” My words were strangled by my sobs, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t draw a deep enough breath.