"It's on, it's—" Lilia writhed on her bed, the book turned upside down in her hands. Her palms flew to her face as she kicked her legs again, screaming into the empty room. Grabbing her pillow, she slammed it against the bed before smothering her face with it, a muffled squeal escaping.
She rolled again. Then again. And then—
PLUP!
Her body fell to the floor as she rolled on the ground too.
"Oh my—oh my heavens," she gasped.
It was already midnight—almost past it—and yet Lilia found herself still clutching the strange black book. She was getting far too used to it. Addicted, even. Whether she wanted to or not, something about the book had cast a spell on her, urging her to keep reading. It was already late—but she didn't care.
"I'll just read one last page," she always whispered to herself. But that one page turned into pages and pages. And that was all she kept saying—one last page.
But then she felt it again. That same wild rush.
