#SlaughteredSoulsSeries #AuthorLondonMichelle
Testing the water, it’s lukewarm. I tie my hair back into a loose pony tail and splash the water onto my face. I grab for the towel in the middle of the counter. My hand lands on what feels like fingers. Startled, I don’t want to open my eyes. I freeze. My hand doesn’t move, but whoever else’s hand was there did. I feel the fingers slip out from under mine. I peek over, there’s nothing on the counter but my hand laying on the towel. I let out the breath I had been keeping and raise myself back up.
Trying to recover from the creepy hallucination, I pat my face dry and discard it on the pile of laundry near my closet. I turn to walk back to my bed, from the corner of my eye, I see her. The white tee shirt, ripped and covered in blood, hanging off her body. A bloodied mass of tissue and tendons hangs from her throat beneath a hole that goes completely through. Her blond hair hangs to her shoulders. Blood drips from one of her eyes and onto the floor. Her arm outstretched toward me. Her lips are mouthing ‘Help Me’.
“Bella, you in here?” Marco calls from the bed before he leaves the bed.
Riley’s apparition still standing in front of me, I can’t speak. I watch her. In my peripheral, Marco approaches. He’s cautious, his footsteps silent and no longer trying to speak to me. As he comes through the threshold, he steps next to me. His breathing staggered as he follows my eyes toward the shower. Riley screams, a horrible high-pitched shrilling noise, as she rushes us. I throw my hands up in defense. Marco heaves himself in front of me. Face to face, I look up into his eyes. His face is calm, his hands planted on the wall behind me, he speaks.
“Annabelle, help me. Torturing. Help me.” Marco is shaking now, he’s breathes an icy breath on my face. “I want to go home. Don’t leave me like this!”
Those last words. That wasn’t Marco speaking, it was Riley. She spoke to me through him. His eyes roll back as he falls to the floor. The lights in my bathroom flicker in a strobe. I drop to his side. Pressing on his chest, trying to wake him. He’s breathing, but not conscious.
Copyright 2018 London Michelle
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