Gangs and Ghosts (Beyond the Shadows Book 1) by Katie May

Author:Katie May [May, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781796545685
Published: 2018-11-09T18:30:00+00:00

Breathing was difficult.

I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, as if that minuscule movement could somehow keep my life from falling apart. My entire body trembled, and all I could do was stare at myself.

Face pale, eyes feral, lips pulled back.

Who was this girl?

I tried to tell myself that it was a coincidence, that I had nothing to do with Johnny’s death, but the darkness purred happily inside of me. It was content, for the first time in its life.

As if...as if it had just been fed.

Shaking, I released the counter and collapsed onto the floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest, and then wrapped my arms around my legs. It was almost as if I hoped the physical comfort would help sooth my mental anguish. I knew the effort would be futile.

There was something severely wrong with me.

After what felt like hours, I finally dared pull myself up. My eyes were red-rimmed, and my head pounded, both from the crying and the alcohol earlier.

I surveyed myself once more in the mirror.

The girl staring back at me was familiar.

But also, unfamiliar.

Same dark hair, same tanned skin, same puffy eyes. But unlike me, her lips were pulled back into a sinister smile. Blood stained her teeth, dribbling down her chin. As I watched, horrified, she held a single finger to her lips.

Shhh.

I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.

I repeated that to myself as I stumbled out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I slammed the door closed, slowly sinking down to the floor.

I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.

My eyes widened as I took in the state of my bedroom. Clothes loitered every available space, each one completely destroyed. I noticed my favorite dress had been cut into shreds. My shirts all had holes through them.

I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.

I squeezed my eyelids shut as if that could somehow erase the images already imprinted into my brain. My breath came out in shallow pants.

I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.

Sitting on my bed, almost as if it was being displayed, was a familiar black outfit. Leather corset, mini-skirt, lace stockings, and knee-high boots.

It was my outfit. My other’s outfit.

The dark me.

Beside it all, mocking me in the afternoon sunlight, was the blond wig.

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