Never Kiss the Dead by Kelly Martin

Author:Kelly Martin [Martin, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dead, ghost, paranormal, demons
Publisher: Kelly Martin
Published: 2019-10-04T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I CAN HEAR RAMSEY’S FOOTSTEPS. I can see his feet, but everything is in a hazy slow motion. Everything is off, nothing feels real except for how cool the metal of the railing feels against my skin as I hug it for dear life. I don’t feel stupid. I don’t feel anything but fear. I’m sure the stupid will come later when I can think.

Right now, I panic.

Ramsey is saying something to me. He squats next to me, and I flinch away. I don’t want to be touched right now. I can’t get the man’s face, with his dead eyes and his sickening smile, out of my mind. It wasn’t a man, now was it? It was Sumner, who had gotten inside my mind again.

How many times was I going to let him pull one over on me? When would I learn?

“Talk to me.” I finally hear what Ramsey’s saying, and I take a few deep breaths to try to find words, but my mind is on auto-panic, running around mode. I see the man, the demon on the road when my parents died, Sumner as the nurse in my room. Flashes of them all go back and forth in my mind until they whirl into a swirl I’m afraid I’ll never break free from.

“Mercy.” Ramsey’s voice is firm, but not angry. I’d be angry if I were him. I’d be angry that I have to babysit a weakling like me. He should be out saving the world, not stuck with me. I hate having to be this way.

I hate me.

I start crying. Lord help me, I’m crying and can’t stop. I haven’t cried since before my parents died. I didn’t cry the day of their funeral, not that I got to attend. I was busy being evaluated at Southern Psych, but I didn’t cry then. I didn’t cry all two years in my tiny home away from home. I’m crying now, next to Ramsey, like a loser.

I try to stop it, and it won’t.

Gah. Inside, I know it’s stupid. It was a dream. A dream with Sumner, sure but just a dream. Was it seeing myself as I am now that got to me so badly? Or seeing myself as the girl I used to be? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.

And the angrier I get, the harder I cry.

“You’ve got to stop this and talk to me. What happened to you after I left?” He must have noticed my knees because he adds, “You’re hurt. You can’t go one day without getting hurt, can you?”

Well, that sets off the waterworks worse. He’s confirmed my biggest fear that I’m a burden to him.

“No. I didn’t mean… Okay, actually I did mean it. But it’s not your fault, okay, Mercy. It’s not. I need you to calm down and talk to me. Something happened after I woke up. I saw you. You were twitching, sweating, screaming. Who was it? What happened? I need you to talk to me.”

He sits me up, and I let him, drained of all fight in me.

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