stillness.
Unless Randy wanted to climb through the broken front window, he was locked out, and he knew it. What he obviously didn’t know was how he’d been locked out. He scrubbed a bloody palm over his buzz-cut hair, clearly unnerved.
Now it was my turn.
From my hiding place behind the bushes, I let out a breathy sigh, as though I’d just run a marathon and was exhausted.
“Who’s there?” Randy pivoted in my direction so fast it startled me.
Steeling my nerves, I let out another sigh, adding a slight moan on the end for good measure.
“Goddammit, I said who’s there?” he roared, taking a few steps toward the pond.
Instead of answering, I dropped to my hands and knees, breathing hard, and began to crawl backward toward the pond.
I was afraid to look at Joe. We hadn’t discussed the particulars of what I’d do to convince Randy that I was the spirit of Michelle, but my instincts told me that the more freaked out Randy was, the better.
What would freak out a guy who’d drowned somebody more than seeing that somebody come crawling out of the water? I prayed that between the freak-out, the darkness and the mud on my face, I’d look enough like Michelle to fool him.
Not that I was going to get all the way into that nasty black pond, of course—that would be too gross—but being all wet and muddy and having my feet in the water would give the illusion that I was dragging myself onto the bank.
And it worked.
Randy took a few more steps toward the pond, and then the bushes were no longer in his line of sight.
I was.
He staggered, visibly shocked. I wasn’t sure which one of us looked scarier—him with his blood-streaked face, or me with my mud-covered one. I borrowed apage from all the bad zombie movies I’d ever seen, and twisted my lips into a sneer, glaring at him beneath my lashes. Saying nothing, I let my eyes do the talking as I started crawling slowly toward him, digging my nails into the muddy grass surrounding the pond.
Chapter 6
“Wha…wha…” Randy was momentarily speechless. His fear did my heart good, and almost made up for the scrapes I was gonna have on my knees.
“Randy,” I whispered hoarsely, giving my voice a coarse, guttural quality that strained my vocal cords. I drew out his name as I kept crawling, very slowly. “Raaaannnndddyyy…did you miss me, lover?”
“You’re not real.” Randy started backing up, away from me.
“He raped me,” Michelle said. I hadn’t seen her reappear since she’d slammed and locked the door, but my eyes had been trained on Randy. “He had me follow him here to the garage, saying he’d patch my tire, but when I got out of the car he dragged me in the back and threw me down on the bed. I screamed and cried, but there was nobody here to hear me.”
“That was so sweet of you to offer to fix my tire,” I rasped to Randy, not having to fake the hatred I was feeling. I didn’t want to come any closer to him, so Islowly stood up, never taking my eyes from his. Joe’s formerly white t-shirt clung to me, hanging to my knees, heavy with mud and water. “Did you like the way I screamed when you raped me?” I bared my teeth in a ghoulish grin. “Was it good for you?”
Randy was paler than any ghost. He shook his head, wordlessly, eyes as big as saucers.
“When he was done he got off me, and told me to get dressed,” Michelle’s voice was shaking. “I thought he was going to let me go—I was so stupid!” A sob broke from her throat.
I didn’t dare look at her, but every word she said left its mark on my heart.
Poor girl. Poor Michelle.
“I’m never going to leave you, you know,” I rasped maliciously to Randy, wishing I had a shotgun of my own. “Real men like you are so hard to come by.”
“I turned toward the door, and he hit me in the back of the head.” Michelle hadn’t finished her story. “Everything went black. I dreamed about being back in my car and watching it fill with water—I thought it was just a
Unless Randy wanted to climb through the broken front window, he was locked out, and he knew it. What he obviously didn’t know was how he’d been locked out. He scrubbed a bloody palm over his buzz-cut hair, clearly unnerved.
Now it was my turn.
From my hiding place behind the bushes, I let out a breathy sigh, as though I’d just run a marathon and was exhausted.
“Who’s there?” Randy pivoted in my direction so fast it startled me.
Steeling my nerves, I let out another sigh, adding a slight moan on the end for good measure.
“Goddammit, I said who’s there?” he roared, taking a few steps toward the pond.
Instead of answering, I dropped to my hands and knees, breathing hard, and began to crawl backward toward the pond.
I was afraid to look at Joe. We hadn’t discussed the particulars of what I’d do to convince Randy that I was the spirit of Michelle, but my instincts told me that the more freaked out Randy was, the better.
What would freak out a guy who’d drowned somebody more than seeing that somebody come crawling out of the water? I prayed that between the freak-out, the darkness and the mud on my face, I’d look enough like Michelle to fool him.
Not that I was going to get all the way into that nasty black pond, of course—that would be too gross—but being all wet and muddy and having my feet in the water would give the illusion that I was dragging myself onto the bank.
And it worked.
Randy took a few more steps toward the pond, and then the bushes were no longer in his line of sight.
I was.
He staggered, visibly shocked. I wasn’t sure which one of us looked scarier—him with his blood-streaked face, or me with my mud-covered one. I borrowed apage from all the bad zombie movies I’d ever seen, and twisted my lips into a sneer, glaring at him beneath my lashes. Saying nothing, I let my eyes do the talking as I started crawling slowly toward him, digging my nails into the muddy grass surrounding the pond.
Chapter 6
“Wha…wha…” Randy was momentarily speechless. His fear did my heart good, and almost made up for the scrapes I was gonna have on my knees.
“Randy,” I whispered hoarsely, giving my voice a coarse, guttural quality that strained my vocal cords. I drew out his name as I kept crawling, very slowly. “Raaaannnndddyyy…did you miss me, lover?”
“You’re not real.” Randy started backing up, away from me.
“He raped me,” Michelle said. I hadn’t seen her reappear since she’d slammed and locked the door, but my eyes had been trained on Randy. “He had me follow him here to the garage, saying he’d patch my tire, but when I got out of the car he dragged me in the back and threw me down on the bed. I screamed and cried, but there was nobody here to hear me.”
“That was so sweet of you to offer to fix my tire,” I rasped to Randy, not having to fake the hatred I was feeling. I didn’t want to come any closer to him, so Islowly stood up, never taking my eyes from his. Joe’s formerly white t-shirt clung to me, hanging to my knees, heavy with mud and water. “Did you like the way I screamed when you raped me?” I bared my teeth in a ghoulish grin. “Was it good for you?”
Randy was paler than any ghost. He shook his head, wordlessly, eyes as big as saucers.
“When he was done he got off me, and told me to get dressed,” Michelle’s voice was shaking. “I thought he was going to let me go—I was so stupid!” A sob broke from her throat.
I didn’t dare look at her, but every word she said left its mark on my heart.
Poor girl. Poor Michelle.
“I’m never going to leave you, you know,” I rasped maliciously to Randy, wishing I had a shotgun of my own. “Real men like you are so hard to come by.”
“I turned toward the door, and he hit me in the back of the head.” Michelle hadn’t finished her story. “Everything went black. I dreamed about being back in my car and watching it fill with water—I thought it was just a
Similar Books
