The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

I jerk awake. My eyes fly open, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. I am at Shane’s house, and he’s lying in bed beside me, still breathing deeply. But I heard something. A scream. I’m sure of it. I look down at my watch. It’s three in the morning. “Shane.” I shake his bare shoulder until his eyes crack open. “I heard something.” “Huh?” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “What’s wrong?” “There was a—” And then we hear it again. A bloodcurdling scream, except this time I can clearly make out a word being screamed: “Brooke!” Shane sits up straight in bed, suddenly as wide awake as I feel. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and jumps into his pair of baggy blue jeans. He throws a T-shirt over his head, while I’m struggling with my skinny jeans. He is still in his socks when he reaches for the bedroom door. “Where are you going?” I ask anxiously. His gaze darts down to the doorknob. “Somebody was screaming downstairs. I need to check it out.”