Some Quiet Place

gone. I won’t last much longer now. No more time to seek out the deeper answers.
    Nightmare turns to face me again, a different knife in his hand. This one has a crooked end. “What was that?” he asks, quirking a brow. I fall silent again. He pats my arm. “I do hate to be left out of a joke. Share!”
    Even though I still refuse to answer, Nightmare senses he’s struck a nerve. “What did I say?” he muses out loud. “Oh, does talking about Landon bother you? Don’t worry, dear. He didn’t suffer … much. After I was done with his blood—that’s where all the power is, you know—I burned him alive. And I hope he keeps on burning in the worst kind of hell there is. Where I’ll be sending you shortly here if you don’t tell me where I can find your father.”
    With an image of Landon standing beside me, holding my hand, I look right into Nightmare’s empty eyes and rasp, “See you there.”

TWENTY-TWO
    The Element just throws back his head and laughs, teeth glinting in the feeble light. He bends down, presses his cold lips against my ear once again. “Shall I tell you how he died?” he whispers. “Should I tell you every tiny detail? Oh, he was so much fun, that child.”
    I honestly don’t know how I’m going to kill him. There will be no spontaneous surge of power, no burst of strength. I’m alone and weak and dying. I’ll be joining Landon and Maggie soon. Too soon. I close my eyes and remember the way Fear’s fingers felt on my cheek.
    “You’re not listening, little bird. How can I hold your attention? Hmmm. Ah, did you know that as I pulled out his nails one by one, Landon screamed? No, wait, how thoughtless of me. You wouldn’t know because you weren’t there. He was completely alone when I killed him.”
    “I … hate you.” For the first time, I feel it, that Emotion. It’s weak, without the actual being around to force his essence on me. It’s a subtle slither through my veins, a memory wrapping itself around me until I’m caught in its mesh. A bitter taste on my tongue.
    Nightmare doesn’t hear me—my voice is barely a whisper and he’s walking to the table again, apparently unsatisfied with just knives. The light bulb above flickers again, and it would be just too fortunate for the power to go out, so I don’t even entertain the hope.
    The Element comes back, settling down onto the chair again. The legs scrape in the dirt. He rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, examining me in a detached way like I’m a fascinating painting.
    “You’re leaving me no choice,” he says, sighing. “Though I don’t enjoy getting messy.” His other hand appears, an odd clamp positioned between his two fingers as if it’s a cigarette. Then he picks up a knife, and I have no idea what he’s planning to do. He moves his face closer and the single ray of light bearing down touches his skin. It casts disconcerting shadows over his features. “One last chance. Your father?”
    My father? I don’t know who that could possibly be, much less where he is. I look away, because Nightmare isn’t the last thing I want to see in this lifetime. I close my eyes and think of Fear, of Joshua, of Charles, of Sarah, of Maggie, of Landon and Rebecca. You all got me to care.
    Just as Nightmare is adjusting his hold on the clamp in one hand and the knife in the other, something hits the wall. Something heavy; we both hear the thud. It’s just outside the door.
    He pauses, pulling his tools away. “I should drain you now,” he mutters, distracted by whatever’s outside. Belying his hard tone, his face is caked in frown lines. Go to the door, see what it is, I urge him silently. Nightmare’s hand lowers as he considers the best course of action, and suddenly the knife is just inches away from my twitching fingers.
    I need to act quickly. Nightmare takes one step toward the door. I find one last scrap of stamina within me and jerk over and reach for the blade. I have no choice but to snatch it by the sharp edges, and I gasp as pain licks through my hand. I try to sit up and my body screams at me. The world blurs in a wild blend of colors and heat. My torso is tilted from the movement, and now the upper half of me hangs off the table. I can’t get back up, but I clench that knife as tightly as I can, trembling.
    “How—” Cursing, Nightmare leaps at me, about to take the knife back from my limp fingers, but then a figure appears briefly on his shoulder, shrieking.
    “Get up, get