The Devil's Reprise by Karina Halle

Author:Karina Halle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Paranormal
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-10-22T22:00:00+00:00

I woke up to my phone ringing. It took me a few moments to once again realize where I was. The room was dark, and the rain was pounding hard on the window. I was covered in blankets, but my teeth were chattering, my hair still damp from earlier.

I slowly rolled over and reached for the phone. Calls in the middle of the night were never a good thing, but maybe with the time difference it was Mel or my dad. I only got to speak to him briefly the other morning.

I pulled the covers around me tighter and snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?” I asked, my voice hoarse from singing at the concert earlier.

Static crackled in my ear. It definitely sounded long distance.

“Hello?” I repeated. “Mel?”

“Dawn.”

My entire body was immediately blanketed in in goosebumps, my heart seeming to beat through sludge. This couldn’t be who it sounded like because if it was, then it was really long distance.

I swallowed, the sound loud in my head. “This is Dawn,” I whispered, my voice quivering.

It had to be a wrong number, it had to be a wrong number.

“Dawn, sweetie, I’m so glad it’s you,” she said.

The voice of my mother.

My mother, who committed suicide when I was sixteen.

My mother, who I discovered dead in the bathroom with bleeding wrists and empty eyes.

“Sweetie,” she went on, her voice suddenly sounding so clear that it was nearly impossible to tell myself that I was dreaming. But I had to be dreaming, I had to be dreaming. “Dawn, you don’t know how good it is to talk to you, to finally talk to you. Oh, honey, I’ve missed you so much.”

The terror was so great that I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I could only hold that phone to my ear, powerless against the fucking horror that was coming through the line. It sounded like my mother, but oh God, it couldn’t be.

My mother was dead. I saw her die. She was dead.

“Who are you?” I found myself croaking out.

“I’m your mother,” she said, her tone hurt and shocked, but still so her. “You must still remember me. You wanted me to come back. They’ve let me go. They want us to see each other.”

The room went deadly silent, deadly cold. I started shivering uncontrollably.

“You aren’t her.”

There was a pause. This was the time for someone to admit they were playing a sick joke.

But it sounds just like her.

“Let me come see you,” she said. “Will you let me in?”

“You are not my mother.” My voice was cracking now, my heart threatening to leap clear out of my rib cage.

“Dawn…how could you not trust me?”

“Because you’re dead!” I screamed into the phone. “I saw you die. You killed yourself and left me in charge!”

Another pause. This one was heavy and long enough to make me start questioning my sanity. I could hear her breathing over the line, ominous and steady, and even that was familiar.

When I was a young girl, maybe seven years old, before

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