Trust me, he says. Trust him to kill us both.
The screen door popped as Adam hit it and took them outside at a sprint. As Adam ran at the ledge rimming the outdoor balcony, she wanted to scream at him, but terror stole her voice. With a leap, he balanced on the parapet. Given their distance from the ground, she couldn't help but shut her eyes tight.
This isn't happening. Maybe she dreamed. Maybe this was all a nightmare, a production of her overworked mind.
"Don't let go," he advised. As if she would. She clung tight to his neck, especially when one of his arms moved away from her upper body, leaving only a single one to support her legs. Forget further warning or time to prepare, or protest. He jumped, and they were airborne.
Oh my god-who probably wasn't listening, given she'd written a thesis disproving his existence-we're going to die.