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I flinch, and my weight shifts onto my heels, only for the chair I’m standing on to rock backward, threatening to leave me hanging. Terror grips my throat, and my stomach plummets to my feet. This insane, sadistic specter would probably enjoy watching me hang.
“Will you be a good girl for me, or will I have to drill that message into you with pain?”
“I-I’ll be good.”
He nods, seeming convinced of my sincerity. That or the confidence that he has my life dangling by a noose.
“Stop talking to the police.”
“Why?” I clap a hand over my mouth. A woman at the mercyof a spectral psychopath is in no position to demand answers. “A-Alright, I won’t talk to them.”
“No more séances.”
“Fine.”
“No more overnight stays.”
“Okay.”
He steps back, seeming to meld into the shadows. His eyes are pale but not glowing, as though stringing me up has dimmed his power. I make a mental note that ghosts are capable of exhaustion. If I’m going to exorcize him, then I’ll need him to exert himself and become weak.
“I’ve agreed to everything you asked,” I say. “Now, will you release the noose?”
“Free yourself.”
“How?”
“Jump.”
My stomach plummets to the creaky floorboards. “You want me to die?”
He doesn’t answer. Relaney once told me that spirits are cryptic. This one doesn’t just want me frustrated, isolated, and defeated, but deceased. He’s determined to torture me until my mind shatters, or I do something to put an end to my torment.
Another realization hits me like a slap. Xero doesn’t want me taking my medication because he wants me to hallucinate. I now understand why his eyes no longer glow. The drugs might not work one hundred percent, but they make it easier for me to distinguish what’s real and what’s in my head… And what belongs to another realm.
Maybe Relaney and the others are right and I really am clairvoyant, and Xero doesn’t want medication to suppress my abilities. He needs me to be able to see him because he draws power from my fear.
Well, fuck this vengeful ghost.
I’ll agree to everything he wants, play along with his sick game, and do whatever I can to escape this mess. After he’s cut me down, I’ll continue taking my meds until he’s nothing but a figment.
“Xero, is there something else I can do besides jumping?” I ask.
“Come for me,” he rasps.
I reach down, my fingers skimming the lace of my panties.
“No hands. Touch your tits,” he says.
My jaw clenches. If this perverted poltergeist wants a show, I’ll give him something to make him wish he was still alive. I cup my breasts, making sure to rub slow circles over them, exactly the way Xero used to instruct me during phone sex.
“Good girl,” he croons.
The praise goes straight to my traitorous clit, which aches and swells. I roll my hips, trying to get a little more friction against whatever he’s shoved into my panties, and finally start feeling good.
My eyes flutter closed, and I breathe through parted lips, trying to shut out the voyeuristic vestige and focus on the sensations.
“Eyes on me,” he rasps.
