Page 58 of Grave Possession

“Yes…. Again, I realized it too late.”

“Is that why you made me promise not to be mad? Because you flashed a serial killer your perfect tits that are for my eyes only?”

“First, they are my titties, and I’ll show them to whoever I want. And second…yes. I made a mistake, and I didn’t want you to get hung up on it since he’s dead.”

There’s a knot in my face, and no matter how hard I try to unwind it, it comes back. I’m so annoyed and irrationally fucking jealous. I want to beat his face to a bloody pulp.

Mallory slowly shifts in my lap, moving to straddle my thighs as she brushes her core against me. “Aww, Ghost. Don’t be like that.” She pulls her shirt over her head, long ebony waves falling forward, covering her chest. “I’ll make it up to you,” she whispers, scattering her maddeningly soft kisses across my skin.

She’s goddamn right, she will.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Mallory

Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I head towards the mill. Lennox finally went back to work today, giving me some much needed breathing room. Seeing him in the new captain uniform almost cripples me every time. His uncle died trying to save me, and no matter what I do, I can’t outrun the feelings that suffocate me when I remember Oscar’s final moments. I’m not able to escape the weight pressing down on me, powerless to outrun my nightmares. Each one ends in my death, either by my own hand or Ted’s. The underlying theme is the same in all of them though; he wants to claim me as his final victim and I should die.

I know it’s ludicrous to live in the past, but if I hadn’t been such a coward before and just offed myself, then the people I care about wouldn’t be hurting now.

Walks are supposed to be good for your mental health, probably not in this case though, since my destination is trauma related. However, I don’t have access to Ted’s cabin since it’s still a crime scene, not that I knowhow to get there anyway. But the mill has been released. I overheard Nox on the phone, setting up an appointment with a contractor to replace some floor boards and spruce up the place for the upcoming Haunt. October is only two weeks away, and I need to confront my demons head-on before this place is crawling with people.

Crossing the parking lot to the front door, a shot rings out. My heart thumps in its cage as I watch the memory unfold before me, like it’s happening right this second. Nox’s uncle collapses to the ground in a spray of red, and Ted’s whoop of elation rings around the area. My reality warps and twists, fusing with the echoes of the past. I push through it, turning away and rushing up the steps. Gripping the scorching metal door handle, I crack one door open and slip inside.

There I am, naked, straddling Officer Johnson in the centre of the room as he cackles in my face. Blood spurts from his mouth as he coughs around his taunting words, splattering red across my skin.

Entranced, I watch myself lose control. Darkness encircling me as my eyes turn as red as the blood on my hands. Fire tears through my veins, and I alight from within as I watch myself become this powerful, take-no-shit being. It’s me, but I don’t recognize the look on my face, the confidence I exude, or the control that I wield.

I’m jealous of whoever I became in that moment. She’d be ashamed of the snivelling, broken thing I am now, too scared to even fucking sleep because he hunts me there.

Standing, she makes her way over to me, the sway of my hips hypnotic and seductive.

What the fuck? Stop checking yourself out.

I scrunch my eyes closed. This didn’t happen. It’s not real. My anxiety multiplies as I pray this whole scene disappears, and things go back to normal. I open my eyes.

“BOO!”

I’m a hair’s breadth away from my own face, so close I can smell my own sweet perfume mixed with murder. Blood drops stick to my eyelashes as red rivers run down my face, dripping off my chin.

Startled, I gasp, stumbling backward and away from myself. I trip over my own shuffling feet and fall, arms flailing, to the dusty, unforgiving hardwood floor. Pain shoots up my tailbone as I yelp from the sharp onslaught.

“What’s the matter? Scared of little old me?” she taunts. “You know I’m you…right?” Advancing on me as I back away, she corners me. “No matter how hard you try to run from me, you can’t really get away.”

“I’m nothing like you,” I spit.

“You got that fucking right,” she scoffs. “You’re weak. Always crying. Always in some kind of downward spiral or dissociative state.” Her words slam into me, each one a shameful truth. “You’re nothing like me,” she snarls, sizing me up. “But…you wish you were. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

I’ve backed myself up against a wall and she smiles. It’s cold, calculated, and deadly. She’s going in for the kill.

“You like what you see, don’t you? You’re envious of me, of this version of yourself. If you’d embrace me instead of pushing me away, I could help you.” She extends her blood soaked hand, waiting for me to take it, and face myself on her level.

“How?” I say on a shaky breath.

“Let me show you.” Her voice is caring, almost pleading.

“I’m scared,” I confess.

“Of what?” She knows, she’s me. She just needs me to hear it from my own lips. Not as a voice incessantly ringing in my head.

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