Some Quiet Place

up!” the thing squeaks.
    Talking to me , I think distantly, moaning. Something tugs at my hair and I struggle to move again, but then Nightmare is there, digging his nails into my skull to lift my head. He grins in my face.
    “What are you going to do with it?” he taunts me. “Go ahead. I’m curious.” He releases my hair to wrap his fists around my hand, the one holding the knife, and dares me with his smirk. I struggle to keep my head up. Neither of us moves. I look into the depths of his gaze and see all the darkness he’s done and caused. I loathe him and wonder how one individual can go so wrong.
    Before I can decide what to do, the tiny being is back, darting between the two of us with another high-pitched shriek. “Get him, get him!” that same tiny voice orders, and suddenly through the haze I recognize it. Moss. Little Moss.
    Nightmare is still as a stone, watching the Element appear and reappear at random spots around the shack. He’s wearing that odd smile. Just as Moss runs along my other side again, begging me to “stab him, stab him,” Nightmare flies over me and the table, arm shooting out, and then Moss is in his grip. “Drop it,” he orders me, meaning the knife.
    I do, with just a moment of hesitation. But even when it falls to the floor with a woeful clink , Nightmare doesn’t let go of Moss. With an intense expression, he closes his fist and begins to squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. She’s probably not worth draining.
    A million images and memories pound into me like the bullets in my back, drawing blood and tides of Emotion despite the illusion that’s still miraculously intact. Rebecca was wrong—even danger such as this, facing death itself and choking on a sensation of feeling, hasn’t broken it. I sense the power hanging on by a thread. Most of the wall has crumbled.
    I remember Landon and the way he squinted at words on a page. She’ll be back. She always comes back.
    Rebecca and her passionate abandon as her skirt twisted around her thighs. Please come back!
    Their mother and her constant, wrinkled worry. No more dancing.
    I see Maggie and her sweet smile. Since you can’t go to the ocean, I thought I would bring it to you.
    It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
    I witness Sarah and her pain, scrubbing vigorously at the kitchen sink. When someone is pretending to be something, or hiding who they are or what they believe, they’re really more … protecting themselves.
    I’d like to think that it’s never too late to change the way things are.
    I invoke Joshua’s image. Frustrating, stubborn, kind, enduring, irrevocable Joshua. So many words, so many looks, just a few unrequited touches. How many of them have secrets they don’t want the world to know? How many of them wear masks everywhere they go? We’re anything but typical.
    What more can there be?
    And then there’s Fear. His impossibility, his adoration, his infuriating ways. His kisses, his persistence, his sacrifice. At least I know that if you can’t feel anything for me, you can’t feel anything for him, either.
    Why are you the only one who can’t let go?
    I should have—
    “Elizabeth!”
    The name jars me, and I crane my neck to find my little friend. Moss is gasping, her tiny fists pounding on Nightmare’s finger. She grapples and keeps making weak, frantic sounds. Her big eyes fasten on my face. Help me, she mouths. Already she’s fading. Her inner light sputters as her life drains.
    I can’t do anything but watch. The edge of the table digs into my stomach as I observe Moss’s time slipping away. Her gaze meets mine one last time, and she reaches out with her hand, flailing for me. At just the right moment, Nightmare shifts closer—he’s laughing, riveted on Moss’s face—and her fingers land to rest on my ear.
    There’s a surge of power, and suddenly I can move. Gasping, I shoot up to a sitting position, and Nightmare’s head whips around. He hisses in shock. Before he can react, I reach out and shove him with everything I have.
    The monster flies back and crashes against the table of weapons and toys with a loud shattering sound. I sway for a moment before I fall. My head bounces painfully on the edge of the chair, but half of me remains on the table.
    “Elizabeth … ” Moss gasps, warning me. I can’t see her, but I can hear her wheezing and swallowing heaps of air somewhere.
    Nightmare is already stirring, muttering under his breath. He braces himself against the wall, swiveling