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Summary
“Did you hear that?” Ricky asked. He brought his hands together. His fingernail dug into his skin, serving as a painful reminder that he was real.
Gyuvin’s smile faded, and his eyebrows raised. He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Hear what?”
Ricky shrugged. “I thought I heard someone talking, but I guess not.”
“You’re fucking with me,” Gyuvin stated. Fright seized his disposition. His body turned stiff as a pole and his face paled.
“I’m serious.” Ricky pointed at the painting. “It came from there.”
“How are you so calm right now?”
Ricky wouldn’t describe himself as calm. His stinging skin grounded him, but his hands still shook. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.”