Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) by J.R. Tate Read Free Book Online

weight under the covers, I try and close my eyes, but I’m scared of what I’ll see when things go completely black.
    I try to find some consistency in putting together the times I’ve heard the voices or when I’ve seen the woman. Does it happen at the same time everyday? What are the circumstances behind it? Middle of the night, in the afternoon – there is absolutely no consistency. It even happened on the job with the little girl. The fact that it has affected work really pisses me off. How am I supposed to control something like this when I can’t even get a handle on it?
    I grab one of Rose’s pillows and put it over my head. I just need some sleep. Some long, restful sleep where I won’t wake up until the morning. Maybe I can get up and make Rose and Rusty breakfast. It’ll show them I’m not completely crazy and that I am trying to get things back to normal. My body and mind fails me. My thoughts kick into overdrive and every time I close my eyes, I see the haunting images that are forever burned into my skull. I won’t ever forget the tinny voice that asks me questions. The young girl’s glossy eyes flash in front of me and I feel myself slide off the edge of the bed, crashing to the floor with a hard thud. My head collides with the nightstand and a sharp pain shoots down my neck.
    “Son of a bitch…” I mutter, feeling the blood above my eyebrow with my index finger.
    Crawling on the floor, I finally fight off the vertigo and stand up. Why in the hell is the room so cold? Did someone turn the heater off? It’s so chilly that when I breathe, I can see it as if I’m outside in the middle of a cold front. I check the thermostat on the landing. It’s set for seventy-two, just like we usually keep it.
    Hugging my midsection, I look over the railing and see that all of the lights in the house are out. Rose must have gone to bed early, but when I look at the alarm clock in my room, it shows it’s after midnight. Maybe I did doze a little and not realize it. Ambling toward my bathroom, I feel another wave of dizziness take over my senses and I lean against the wall to brace myself. The cut above my eyebrow is still bleeding, and I dab a wet washcloth against it to clean it up. The gash is deep and painful, and I wince as I apply pressure to it.
    I’m starting to look like a homeless man, and my reflection haunts me almost as bad as the other things I’ve been seeing. How much longer of this can I take before physically, I give out?
    Dipping my head, I splash warm water on my face, savoring the way it feels against my cold skin. The water drips down, pooling in the bottom of the sink and I stare at it as it swirls down the drain. Lifting my head, I look in the mirror again, only this time it isn’t me staring back, but the same woman who always appears in my TV. Her face is bloody and she reaches out, clenching onto my neck. Her grip is tight and her nails dig in, sending the most excruciating pain throughout my body. I try to fight her off, but her strength is no match for me. Pulling on me, she slams me into the mirror, shattering it into several pieces.
    I yell out, but my voice doesn’t work. She’s clamped down on my vocal cords, and with each attempt to scream, she squeezes harder, her black eyes dark as she stares at me. Her expression doesn’t change – it’s pure evil as she clenches her teeth. The edges of my vision grow black and fuzzy, and I feel my legs give out. I try to gasp for air, but none makes it to my lungs. Is this it? This is how I’m going to die?
    She finally releases me and I crash to the floor, landing on top of the shards of the mirror beneath me. The woman, or whatever the hell she is, hovers over me, staring down at me as if she’s about to try something else.
    Glaring up, I muster just enough energy to say, “What do you want from me?” It’s a struggle to get the short sentence out, but by the way she blows up, she’s obviously heard every word.
    “Your life