Bria lifts her fingers, poised for a snap. Maybe it’s the glare of the flashlight, but her features begin to quiver and vibrate, her own face starting to blur. The girls sulkily mirror her, and they snap as one. The sound they create is a singular crack, like too-close lightning, and I can’t even hear myself scream as the night tears itself into brightness. In its wake I hear that hum, the one that I heard when I first arrived at Aspen. I’m sure it’s that hum, vibrating and hot and saturating the air. But this time it’s loud. All at once it’s inside me, crawling on the inside of my eyes.
