Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
A shudder went down his spine.
She unfolded one of the paper pages and placed it on the table. On a cream background, intricate symbols drawn in sepia created a map of sorts—or the board to some strange game—and Karla placed both her hands on top, whispering softly.
Zane cleared his throat. “About my wi—“
The medium raised her palm to shush him, and opened her eyes slowly, as if his voice had pulled her out of a dream-like state. “She is waiting for her turn. This man wants to speak first. His name starts with G… or maybe J…”
“Jeffrey,” Roach breathed, slumping in the chair as if someone had pricked him with a needle and let out all air. He hadn’t heard anyone addressing his father with his given name since… forever.
Was it just him, or had the light dimmed somewhat, creating a circle of illumination that was denser around the table but left the corners shadowed?
Karla rolled her bony shoulders, grabbed a couple of the odd fragments rattling in the wooden box before tossing them onto the board. Her chest expanded with a whine, throat bulging as she threw her head back, wheezing in a way that was reminiscent of a creaking old tree.
“Your f-father,” she whispered, chest heaving while she remained in a trance.
“I’m not ready for this,” he uttered, though what he meant was that he didn’t want to talk to Hulk. Not in front of Zane, not ever. They hadn’t come here for ghosts. Roach was gonna be sick, his stomach already clenching. He felt as if he were shrinking, about to become a child again, terrified of the monster who had been so very real.
Could this be? Did the existence of the curse confirm other paranormal phenomenon as fact? Was his father here? Watching him, ready to grip the back of his neck with an ice-cold hand?
Next to him, Zane rolled his eyes and briefly tapped his knee against Roach’s. But he didn’t know. He had no idea what Karla’s words meant. Roach stiffened when she gave a guttural huff and moved her head forward. Her eyes, kind and warm, pinned him to the chair.
“He says he’s sorry. Sorry for the things he made you do.”
A rock grew in Roach’s throat, blocking his airflow and making him gag. He refused to look up at her, or Zane, focused on the cockroach tattooed on one of his hands. Dad had given him that nickname. Roach. Lowest of the low, a bottom-feeder even if impressively hard to kill and frightening at times. No one liked a roach. “He’s not sorry. Can we just move on to Zane’s wife?” He couldn’t allow himself a nervous breakdown in front of Zane, and his entire body was on the verge of crumbling.
Karla ignored him and picked up a conical metal object attached to a red thread. Humming softly, she hovered it around the board, and the pendant started moving in a circle, even though her hand remained still.
Darkness crept from the corners of the cozy room, crawling ever closer.
“People often see their lives from a different perspective after they die and are no longer affected by the dirt in their bodies. Jeffrey says…” She frowned, shutting her eyes while her palm gravitated to another spot on the paper map and the pendulum slowed, making ever narrower circles. “He tells me it’s because of him that death keeps following you.”
Ice covered his bones when the pendulum trembled above a winding line reminiscent of a river.
“As a child, you almost drowned, escaped death, but it sank its clutches in you. Jeffrey is sorry he hadn’t seen you approaching the river.”
Dad hadn’t seen him because Roach had made a point of going for a swim on his own. Some days, he wished he’d died that day and didn’t have to find out what the future still had in store for him. But he’d lived, like the cockroach he was. Meant to suffer over and over, surviving on meaningless scraps.
“And then your mother…” Karla shook her head.
Roach glanced at Zane, and when Karla closed her eyes, he gestured at his throat to signal he wanted to end this.
Zane leaned back in the chair, exhaling. “I don’t want to disturb you, but could I use your restroom while you’re reading for him?”
The traitor. Roach couldn’t believe this shit.
Karla startled and tapped her forehead, leaning over the board while her pendulum swung faster. “Yes… end of corridor. Green door,” she whimpered tightly, as if she were in pain.
Was she witnessing Roach’s past? How could he look into her eyes if she was? Roach’s fingers trembled so hard he had to ball his hands into fists and hide them under the table.
Roach glanced at Zane, but had to bite back a yelp when the lights above flickered, each time plunging him into thick darkness, as if his father stood behind him, ready to strike. No, Roach could hear him approaching, heavy footsteps closer and closer.