Page 19 of Malice

Not just watched. Hunted. Like the hundreds of times when Chester was stalking me. Spinning around, I see no one, of course, so I rush to the window to peer outside. No one. Just some kids across the street playing kickball. They aren’t tall enough to look through my window, even if they wanted to.

I can’t shake it though. It’s almost like I can feel someone breathing on the back of my neck. Too close. Slowly, I turn around to find the room empty. Great. Now I’m feeling things that aren’t real. How much more messed up can I get?

I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my temples to stall the incoming headache. I just want my life to be normal. Peaceful. Like it was before I ever met Chester Dillon.

“God, I wish I never met you,” I say aloud, directing my gaze to the floor. “If you can hear me, I know you’re in hell or wherever psychopaths go when they die. You tried to ruin me but I won’t let you. I might be down right now, but you’re dead and I’m not.” My eyes sting with emotion. “Fuck you, Chester.”

The napkin holder on the counter clangs to the floor suddenly, and I gasp, jumping back. My chest tightens as a trickle of fear slides along my spine. There’s no way Chester is here haunting me. That doesn’t make sense. Even if ghosts are real, wouldn’t it take a while? Or is that just something I saw in a movie once?

The side door that leads to the outside breezeway connecting the house to the garage creaks open slowly, and another jolt of panic rises within me. Didn’t I lock that?

To test the theory, I step back toward the dining room, but call out, “Fuck you, Chester.”

The door slams shut, rattling the glasses in the cabinets.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh my fuck.

I dart out of the kitchen, down the hall, and back to the living room where Aster’s card is. I pick it up, about to call, but then I pause. Wait. This is just way too convenient. It’s gotta be some kind of prank or trick Aster thought up to fuck over people like me. Make us feel like we’re being haunted so we pay for his services or let him stay here, or whatever way he takes payment. Maybe he even uses his job to find vulnerable people like me.

Either that, or it’s my imagination fucking with me. That makes a lot more sense. I’m traumatized by what I’ve been through. Of course I would imagine a scenario where Chester can still mess with my head.

I put Aster’s card down and shake my arms out. I’m good. My house isn’t haunted. In fact, tomorrow I’ll call Aster and tell him I need an exact listing of what damage he’s supposedly looking for or he’s not welcome here.

I’m taking control of this situation. No one, living or dead, is going to mess with me again. With that settled, I carefully climb the stairs to my bedroom, suddenly exhausted. A nice little nap should make me feel a lot better.

Chapter 9

Aster

The loud beep of my alarm startles me from sleep, and I smack my nightstand until I find my phone and turn it off. Otto yips, bouncing on the bed to get my attention.

“One second, buddy,” I groan.

He continues barking, alerting me to something more pressing than food. I pull myself upright and nearly jump out of my skin. Farnsworth is standing at the foot of my bed, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“Uh, hey.”

He nods, looking even more out of place here in his dated style than he does in his own realm. “You forgot to file your status report.”

“Oh. Shoot. I did.” Scrubbing my hands over my face, I blow out a breath. “Sorry. It’s a lot at first.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” He glances around with a disdainful look. “Above.”

“You don’t like it up here?”

“No. Up here is how I ended up down there.”

“Right.”

“Did you make contact with the Horror?”

“I saw him. Crash said he’s not fully manifested yet.”

“Ah, Crash attached to you. He’s good but… Well, you’ll figure it out.”

“I’d appreciate a heads-up.”

Farnsworth nods, tilting his head. Suddenly, his words are in my head but not spoken aloud.

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