“Stop,” I pleaded.
“You have to help me. You have to stop him.”
My whimpers turned into sobs. “Please … g-go away.”
I felt another presence. Heard the shaky rumble of his voice as he told the lady to leave.
“Daddy,” I whispered, relieved. He smiled at me with sad eyes.
But the spirit refused to budge.
“I’m sorry, honey bunch. I love you,” my father’s voice whispered, heavy with regret.
The wretched fingers of loss clawed their way into my chest, pulling apart my ribcage as if just learning of his death.
I dropped the pillow, and reached out to him. “Nooo! Daddy!” My screams were useless. He was gone.
Wrenching my sweat-soaked body upright, my throat ached as the scream continued to escape the depths of my chest. I pressed my lips together to cut off the sound, but that only lasted a second. My mouth opened wide again as I gasped for much needed air.
A hammering sound filled the room. My muddled brain mistook it for the pulse in my ears, but it was the beating of a fist on my bedroom door.
“SHUT UP!” My housemate screeched as she continued to pound.
I was definitely awake now. My hand circled my throat. I needed to check for myself if my screams had stopped. Yup. All good. “Yeah, keep your skin on!” I tried to shout back, but my voice came out hoarse.
“Fucking freak,” she mumbled before I heard the shuffle of her feet on the tiles.
Again, frozen fingers grasped my toes and pulled. I snapped my foot back, leaving her hand suspended and empty. I watched my stubborn, unwanted visitor through narrowed eyes, and a whole lot of false bravado.
“He’s coming. He’s going to take another.”
“Okay got it. You can go now. You’re not wanted here. Leave.” My voice was low, but firm.
Her face went blank, and her hand dropped from its raised position. The holographic image of her faded, but the chill running up and down my body remained.
I liked to think I could run from this, but there’s no hiding from things unbound to time or matter. My stupid sixth sense was telling me the proverbial shit was going to hit the proverbial fan … soon.
Fuck my life.
Author of smart, sexy characters, J.M. Adele loves to flit between the dark and light sides of romance. Somewhere along the way, an almost constant procession of imaginary characters settled into her thoughts and she picked up a pen to share their stories.
She lives in Queensland with her three greatest loves—her children. When she's not writing or being a mum, you might find her hiking up a mountain, singing in the car when nobody is looking, or curled up with a good book.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
