Page 17 of Ghost Girl

And that just fuckingpissed. me. off.

It was my turn to scream. I felt my jaw drop farther than should have been possible, if only I’d had bones. My mouth gaped open as I released a wail that, by all accounts, was themost terrifying thing I’d ever heard. Frustration, rage, all of it was channelled into that one single scream as I fought to maintain some semblance of control over my own existence. It was the yell of a scorned woman, a betrayed wife,a trapped soul.

Through that single shout, I released it all out into the world. I’d been holding onto it all for so long, using it to motivate me, to give me purpose. But it was moments like these where I was forced to acknowledge to raw, unadulterated truth. I wasn’t better than the other girls who haunted their graves. I wasn’t more powerful or more cunning. I wasn’t different or special. I was simply an angry spirit yearning for revenge, yet incapable of leaving this cursed land.

How the fuck was I supposed to make Blake suffer for his crimes if I couldn’t do more than cause a chill or rustle some hair in a supernatural breeze?

Energy pulsed from my in wave after wave of sheer emotional turmoil. The trees bent at odd angles, roots barely clinging to the soil. Birds and other animals skittered away, fleeing my destructive rage. The earth rumbled, a warning of what was to come, dislodging the foundations of the cabin and bringing it crumbling down. And yet, in the living realm, nothing moved. One blink, and the world righted itself like nothing had happened.

Fuck!

Silence.

A flicker of a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

A dark, bass chuckle.

One second, I was lying horizontally on top of my grave, and the next, I was vertical and scanning the treeline for the shadow man. Another flicker of darkness had me spinning to face the western forest, the trickle of the Little Deschutes hidden inside it the only sound I heard for a while. I squinted my eyes as I tried to pinpoint the shadow man’s location, but the sun wassetting fast, the shadows stretching longer and further until the lights from the cabin switched on to cut through the darkness. They cast slivers of light over the lawn, the tip of one just barely grazing the edge of my grave but stopping before it reached my toes.

A vicious shout reverberated through the atmosphere from inside the cabin, pulling my attention away from my search. The girl was giving Blake what he wanted, it seemed. The fight in her was strong, and he was going to enjoy snuffing it out. He always did like a challenge.

Blake’s laughter ran through the air, the sound so light and excitable that it was jarring against the chilling events.

‘Eat up,’ he told her, his voice muffled through the walls, but still far too loud as it echoed around me. Taunting me. Mocking me. ‘I like your fire, sweetheart. I want more of it, and you’ll need your strength if you want to keep up.’

‘Please, just let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone, justplease,’ the girl began her begging.

I could picture what he was doing right now, because he did the same with me. With all of us. His finger would be stroking gently over her jawline, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek, but that softness was all an illusion, another way to prove his dominance, to stroke his ego, when she was putty in his hands. A form of mental manipulation he enjoyed using on all of his victims to confuse them. All the while, his hand would be positioned possessively, keeping her eyes on him even if she tried to look away, tilting her chin up so he could gaze upon her fearful expression with open admiration.

Another tendril of smoky blackness darted out from the corner of my eye before promptly blending into its surroundings, once again invisible. The shadow man was taunting me just like Blake, and I wasn’t going to stand for it. Decision made, I pointedly ignored the newcomer, driftingaway from my grave towards the house. His answering chuckle followed me as I phased through the walls, like he thought my dismissal was cute rather than the threat that it was meant to be.

But he could stay out there and burn for all I cared. I had other things,betterthings, to be doing than playing someone else’s sick games. The only games anyone would be playing were my own as I stripped them of everything that held meaning to them.

For Blake, that was his god complex. He felt like he had the ultimate control over everyone at any given moment. The girls, when he held them captive, tortured them, made them beg and plead, then he’d watch as the life bled from their eyes, revelling in his power to take it. At work, when he was saving lives, cutting out the rot and stitching them back together so they could live long and healthy lives. That helped play into his role as the doting husband, the do-gooder, the man everyone loved to love.

It was all one giant con created to stroke his ego, to make him feel powerful and important, even when he moved in the shadows. But it wasmyturn to move in the shadows, to watch him fall apart at the seams as his entire world imploded. I wanted to peel away every layer for the world to see who he truly was beneath all the bullshit. I wanted him to panic, to realise there was nothing he could do as his nightmare came to life.

And then I wanted him to feel the physical pain. I wanted him to drown in his blood while I tore his organs from his body and forced them down his fucking throat. I wanted to mar his perfect features, the ones he used to trick people into believing he was some sort of saviour, so the outside matched the inside.

I was going to fuckingwin.

As I entered the basement through the ceiling, I found him exactly as I’d imagined: hand cupping her face, pretending to be gentle and adoring. It was all part of his mindfuck games, and I could tell from the girl’s glare and the way she grimaced at his touch that it wasn’t working. Yet.

It would, eventually. Given enough time, the Stockholm Syndrome would eventually set in, and that would be when he’d finally strike. No more kind words. No more hot meals. No more soft touches. Just endless pain and the desire for the blissful nothingness of death.

As if death would ever create such peace. Even that was a lie.

But dammit, I was taking him down with me, no matter what it took.

And the entity who caused the ice-cold prickle on the back of my neck as he watched from the deepest, darkest shadows of the room. His gaze was like drowning in a frozen lake, all-encompassing and suffocating, but calm at the same time. The kind of calm only a predator could achieve while lying in wait, patient and still. I’d take him down, too.

Chapter 7

Chance

My phone lit up on the table before me. Another text from my mother. To say she was displeased with my sneaky departure from yesterday’s luncheon would be an understatement. She was livid. And my phone blowing up was only the start of it.

It wasn’t just her trying to reach me. Blake had also been texting to ask where I was, Dakota had sent a few messages to warn me of the incoming storm, bless her heart, and even my stepfather joined in with his short, disapproving texts.

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