Still, Forever, Promise by Merritt D. L

Author:Merritt, D. L. [Merritt, D. L.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-04-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Jolted out of a dead sleep, Brianna blinked several times to clear her vision. Hours ago, the room had been warm and embracing. Now it held a chilling oppressiveness.

Though she’d left the bathroom light on, it only illuminated one corner of the room, and the slivers of moonlight escaping through the window blinds did little to lessen the shadowy darkness. Brianna waited, fearful, the covers pulled up to her chin. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and was suddenly struck by a strange smell, an odd mixture of damp dirt and rotting flesh.

If she did nothing, she’d become an easy target for an attack. Deciding to take the offensive, she sat up, anticipating the cold hands of death reaching out to grab her at any moment.

Nothing happened.

The clock registered 1:00 a.m. The click of the minute hand flipping echoed through the room. The occasional creak of the house settling seemed amplified.

She felt a presence, but nothing was discernible in the darkness.

A feather-light caress ran up her arms, but no hands were visible. She held her breath as the invisible touch traveled across her shoulders and down to the middle of her chest. Suddenly, the pressure intensified and she was shoved back onto the pillow, her heart jackhammering against her ribcage as she struggled to breathe in life-giving air.

I’m too young to have a heart attack, she thought, her eyes desperately searching for her cell phone which rested on the nightstand inches away. She wanted to call for an ambulance, but she was unable to move. A scream lodged in her throat, begging for release. All that escaped her parched lips was a slight mewling sound.

Then a dark mass appeared, hovering inches above her frozen body. Its foul-smelling breath wafted across Brianna’s face, and she swallowed back the overwhelming urge to vomit.

This has to be a nightmare. Wake up!

She blinked rapidly, willing the specter to disappear. It didn’t. She was face-to-face with the apparition of an angry, middle-aged woman whose eyes glowed red in the moonlight. Maggots squirmed in a hole in the figure’s cheek, and Brianna turned her head to avoid the slimy grubs that threatened to fall on her face.

The phantom’s seething fury was palpable. Brianna’s pulse rate accelerated, pole vaulting her into a state of panic. She fought for her life as the creature kept a vice-like grip on her heart and tried to rip it from her chest.

Her eyes bounced around the room in a desperate attempt to find a way to escape. Finding none, she stared back. This woman held an uncanny resemblance to the picture Ms. Jane had shown her that afternoon—the same angular face, cold, emotionless eyes, and thin lips.

Ms. Kennedy!

Brianna shivered as the air grew frigid around her. Intent on getting herself out of this predicament, she concentrated with every ounce of strength she had left until a weak moan escaped her freezing lips. She mustered an even louder scream, and it gave her the strength to push up and away from the evil mass pressing down on her.

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