Atticus Jackson

Logan turned to look at Corey, frustration showing on his face, eyes still wide.

No.

He shook his head once, ruffling his long hair like he was trying to clear his mind.

When he was done, he looked at me.

I didn't want to answer.

I didn't want to talk about what I'd seen.

But their eyes were boring into me like drills.

Unspeakable.

It was called unspeakable.

Logan took a step back like I'd just pushed him, pivoted away from the TV and walked to the kitchen.

I thought he meant to open the fridge for a fresh beer.

Instead, he reached for one of the cabinets, flipped it open, and pulled out a whiskey bottle with a black label.

He yanked the cork out of the whiskey as he crossed the room.

Me too.

That means... Logan took a swig from the bottle, winced as it went down his throat.

Corey stuck out his hand, and Logan passed the whiskey.

Corey took a swig of the whiskey, swallowed, then doubled over, hands trembling as he set the bottle on the coffee table.

Logan ignored the sudden wave of groans coming from Corey, walking away from him to drop onto the couch again.

Logan tapped his phone screen alive and pulled up his notes app.

So we started with it follows, then we moved into final destination, then... Corey shuffled away, knocking over empty beer bottles with a tinkling clatter as he went, still bent in half, feet unsteadily carrying him towards the hallway where the bathroom waited.