My back hit the solid wood of the bedframe with a dull thud. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.
Draven—or whatever nightmare was currently piloting his body—remained on his knees, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. The mismatched eyes stared right through me. The right eye, Draven's human silver, was wide and manic; the left eye, the demon's molten silver, glowed like a dying star. Together, they looked like a fractured mirror reflecting two different kinds of hell.
Then, he clapped his hands together. Smack.
The sound was startlingly loud in the tense silence. He didn't get up. Instead, he began to shuffle forward on his knees, dragging his legs lazily behind him like a broken doll, the terrifying smirk never leaving his face.
