Page 2 of Cursed Love
Reaching the door, she shot out her hand and attempted to swipe her access card. She missed twice, the tremors in her hands making it difficult to fit the card in the slot. She peered over her shoulder and sucked in a breath before trying again. The moment the green light lit up, she twisted the handle.
“Ouch!” she cried when a spark of electricity shocked her at the contact. Ignoring the sting, she hurried inside and pulled the door closed for added measure.
Brandy searched the dimly lit road from the safety of the building. Unease crawled over her skin at the warning of nearby danger. She could feel someone watching her, but they weren’t anywhere she could see them. In her gut, she knew they were there, hiding in the shadows.
Once she was thoroughly creeped out, she hurried down the hall. Every little noise made her jump and twirl around, but she only found herself alone. Short, shaky breaths slipped from her lips as her feet protested each step.
Following the curve of the hall, she exhaled loudly at the sight of the metal elevator doors. Brandy stabbed her thumb against the up arrow. “Come on, come on,” she chanted. When the doors slid open, she was relieved to find it empty and slipped inside. She turned on her heels, shot out her index finger, and repeatedly pressed the seven on the panel until the doors shut.
“What the hell?” she muttered and paced the small box as it groaned on the ascent. Whatever had happened outside rattled her to the core. In the almost three years she’d lived in the apartment complex, she had never experienced anything to make her fear for her safety.
The elevator chimed a second before the doors opened to let her out onto her floor. She stared down the corridor, thankful to find it empty. Rushing to her apartment, she looked up and down the hall before letting herself inside.
“Greg?” she called out. “You home?” When silence greeted her, she wanted to scream.
After kicking off her heels, she walked across the plush carpet to her room. The soft fabric fit the curves of her tired and aching feet. Her reflection in the large window of her master bedroom made her pause—a sight she’d seen numerous times and yet tonight, the woman reflecting back looked… different.
“Get it together, Brandy,” she told herself and padded to the curtains.
Searching the street below, she noticed everything looked like any other night. A howling in the distance caused the neighborhood dogs to respond. The eerie sound reminded her of the growling in the alley.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she snapped her curtains together. She turned her back to the floor-to-ceiling fabric, then undressed and slipped on her robe. Stressed and cold, she turned the shower’s faucet to hot before searching the kitchen for a water bottle.
Her fingers still tingled from the spark earlier, and her head pulsed with pain all around. Brandy hoped the water, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep would alleviate whatever ailed her body. Once she was rested, she would find a logical explanation for it all.
Chapter 2
Teeth snapped all around Brandy. Any way she turned, there was a row of bright white, sharp fangs, eager to tear into her flesh. The putrid smell of rotting meat and blood assaulted her with each exhale of the feral animals.
She couldn’t believe she would die like this. “Help!” she screamed, hoping someone could save her from the mauling that awaited her.
A deep sinister laugh rang all around her. Spinning in a circle, she couldn’t place where it had come from. Spittle hit the back of her hand, and she wiped it off on her jeans. She twisted left to right, searching for an exit, a chink where she could dash to for safety. A shadowed form appeared behind the teeth chomping in her direction, and her breath hitched.
A pair of eyes briefly flashed red. “We’ve been looking for you, Brandy.”
Brandy shot up in bed. Her shoulders rose with deep breaths as the seductive yet dangerous voice echoed in her mind. Looking around the room, she verified she was alone and found the covers on Greg’s side of the bed untouched. Leaning on her elbow, she reached for the bottled water on her nightstand. She chugged it before rolling onto her back and staring at her ceiling.
There was no way she could fall back asleep after her nightmare. The dream had been in high definition. She could still feel the heat of the dog’s breath billowing against her hands and the awful smell it exuded. Needing to focus on something other than the fear running rampant through her, she grabbed her phone.
No missed texts or calls were recorded. Greg hadn’t bothered to reach out. She couldn’t continue denying things with him were nearing their end. The reality made her sad. When they first started dating, they had been crazy for each other, but each year things seemed to deteriorate little by little.
A noise outside her bedroom pulled her from her thoughts, and she sat up. With her attention on her closed door, she reached into her nightstand for anything she could protect herself with and found the brass knuckles.
“Weird,” Brandy whispered. She clearly remembered them being in the dresser.
The tension in her body coiled tightly when a crash erupted from her living room. With a quick glance at her clock, she noted it was five in the morning. The door to her bedroom opened and banged when it bounced off the wall. Brandy screamed when a dark figure stumbled inside. Raising her hands in front of her in defense, she prepared to fight off the intruder.
“Shit! Ow!”
“Greg?” she asked in disbelief.
“What the hell, Bran? Why’d you throw that at me?” he slurred.
Brandy moved toward him. “What are you talking about? Why are you only now getting home? Where the hell have you been?” Gone was her fear from earlier as Greg stood before her. All her anger was front and center. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, and her hands balled into fists.
Greg turned on the light and pointed at the ground. “You threw your damn notebook at me!”
“No I didn’t.” She stepped closer and smelled the booze off him. “Why haven’t you replied to my texts?”
