on top of your mail, and we've got to work out a plan for paying the bills. And you've, uh, got to cool it with the Vicodin. You need to be more alert. If… if somebody is coming into the house."
Barbara nodded, and tried to smile. "Of course."
"I'll help as much as I can, but I can't do it alone." Erin's voice shook.
"Yes, I know," Barbara hastened to say. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby. I'll pull myself together, and we'll all be fine. You'll see."
"Cindy, too. Maybe we could set up a meeting with the scholarship committee, convince them to give her another chance. She can't just quit school. I'll call her tonight."
"Yes. You do that. She looks up to you," Barbara encouraged. "I appreciate your help, hon. I really do."
Erin pulled on her jacket and hesitated, gazing at her mother with big, worried eyes. "Are you sure you're going to be OK, Mom?"
"More than sure," Barbara assured her. "You go and get packed. Have a good trip. Call when you get there, OK?"
"I can't," Erin said. "Your phone's cut off."
Barbara flinched. "Oh, God. Well, don't worry about it, hon. I'll take care of it right away."
"I'll do it when I get back, Mom," Erin offered. "I don't mind."
"Don't worry. Run along and get ready. You have to be at your best tomorrow," Barbara urged.
Erin gave her a tight, lingering hug and a kiss, and left.
Barbara peered out the window and watched Erin run down the sidewalk, light-footed and graceful. She turned the corner and was lost to sight.
Barbara straightened up and looked around with a new sense of purpose. She twitched the crocheted throw on the loveseat back into place and rearranged the pictures on the mantel. She gathered up the mail and rifled through the envelopes with a semblance of her old efficiency, shaking her head at all the past due notices.
It was time to stop moping and working herself into a state. Making her little girl worry herself sick. For heaven's sake.
She stared at the TV with hostile eyes, and finally knelt down, plugged in the power strip, reattached the cables, and pushed it back to its place against the wall. She took the remote in her trembling hand and held it out in front of her like a weapon, challenging the blank screen. The mail crumpled against her chest in her shaking hand.
Enough foolishness. What she had seen was the result of too many sedatives. And it would be nice to watch the evening news.
She turned it on.
Gleaming, naked bodies, grunts and moans… the film flickered, but the images were horribly clear. Her husband. His mistress. She stabbed at the remote. The TV did not respond. She stabbed at the off button on the TV itself. Nothing. The thing was possessed.
She knocked the appliance onto the floor, but the bodies kept on grunting and heaving, lewd and bestial. Cackling, demonic laughter echoed in her head. She lunged for the fire iron by the fireplace and smashed it down against the screen. It sparked and popped, spraying glass all over the carpet. The demon TV was finally silenced.
Barbara Riggs stared at the fire iron protruding from the TV's shattered belly. She lifted her hands to her face. Envelopes fluttered down around her like snow, forgotten.
She sank to her knees. A high-pitched mewling sound was coming from her mouth. Shards of glass ground themselves into her knees. She barely felt them. Her heart pounded. Her lungs wouldn't take in air. She was coming apart. Shaking to pieces.
The terror filled her mind like black smoke, bearing her under.
----
Chapter Three
The car pulled to a stop beside Erin. She jumped and cowered back against the ivy-covered stone wall until she heard Connor's voice coming out of the dark interior of the vehicle. "It's just me."
Relief, anger, and excitement all mixed and fizzed in her belly. She brushed herself off and groped for her dignity. "You scared me!"
"Yeah, I noticed. Pretty spooked, aren't you?"
She could think of no reply to such an obvious statement, so she just started walking again.
The car
Barbara nodded, and tried to smile. "Of course."
"I'll help as much as I can, but I can't do it alone." Erin's voice shook.
"Yes, I know," Barbara hastened to say. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby. I'll pull myself together, and we'll all be fine. You'll see."
"Cindy, too. Maybe we could set up a meeting with the scholarship committee, convince them to give her another chance. She can't just quit school. I'll call her tonight."
"Yes. You do that. She looks up to you," Barbara encouraged. "I appreciate your help, hon. I really do."
Erin pulled on her jacket and hesitated, gazing at her mother with big, worried eyes. "Are you sure you're going to be OK, Mom?"
"More than sure," Barbara assured her. "You go and get packed. Have a good trip. Call when you get there, OK?"
"I can't," Erin said. "Your phone's cut off."
Barbara flinched. "Oh, God. Well, don't worry about it, hon. I'll take care of it right away."
"I'll do it when I get back, Mom," Erin offered. "I don't mind."
"Don't worry. Run along and get ready. You have to be at your best tomorrow," Barbara urged.
Erin gave her a tight, lingering hug and a kiss, and left.
Barbara peered out the window and watched Erin run down the sidewalk, light-footed and graceful. She turned the corner and was lost to sight.
Barbara straightened up and looked around with a new sense of purpose. She twitched the crocheted throw on the loveseat back into place and rearranged the pictures on the mantel. She gathered up the mail and rifled through the envelopes with a semblance of her old efficiency, shaking her head at all the past due notices.
It was time to stop moping and working herself into a state. Making her little girl worry herself sick. For heaven's sake.
She stared at the TV with hostile eyes, and finally knelt down, plugged in the power strip, reattached the cables, and pushed it back to its place against the wall. She took the remote in her trembling hand and held it out in front of her like a weapon, challenging the blank screen. The mail crumpled against her chest in her shaking hand.
Enough foolishness. What she had seen was the result of too many sedatives. And it would be nice to watch the evening news.
She turned it on.
Gleaming, naked bodies, grunts and moans… the film flickered, but the images were horribly clear. Her husband. His mistress. She stabbed at the remote. The TV did not respond. She stabbed at the off button on the TV itself. Nothing. The thing was possessed.
She knocked the appliance onto the floor, but the bodies kept on grunting and heaving, lewd and bestial. Cackling, demonic laughter echoed in her head. She lunged for the fire iron by the fireplace and smashed it down against the screen. It sparked and popped, spraying glass all over the carpet. The demon TV was finally silenced.
Barbara Riggs stared at the fire iron protruding from the TV's shattered belly. She lifted her hands to her face. Envelopes fluttered down around her like snow, forgotten.
She sank to her knees. A high-pitched mewling sound was coming from her mouth. Shards of glass ground themselves into her knees. She barely felt them. Her heart pounded. Her lungs wouldn't take in air. She was coming apart. Shaking to pieces.
The terror filled her mind like black smoke, bearing her under.
----
Chapter Three
The car pulled to a stop beside Erin. She jumped and cowered back against the ivy-covered stone wall until she heard Connor's voice coming out of the dark interior of the vehicle. "It's just me."
Relief, anger, and excitement all mixed and fizzed in her belly. She brushed herself off and groped for her dignity. "You scared me!"
"Yeah, I noticed. Pretty spooked, aren't you?"
She could think of no reply to such an obvious statement, so she just started walking again.
The car
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