May 3, 1944

Parsons Manor is haunted—has been since the moment I moved in. Those poor souls that lost their lives here are angry. They always have been.

Some days, I worry that I’ll end up here with them.

Because despite how vengeful the spirits are, I love this house. So much so, I feel it’s become a part of me. When I’m angry, the temperature in the house drops as cold as the ice that clings to my words.

“You were supposed to help with his problem.”

Frank stands beside me while I rock in my chair, staring out the bay window, my gaze locked onto his reflection in the glass. Or rather, what’s behind him.

There’s someone standing behind him—something.

It appears to be around seven feet tall, and while its form is entirely black, its sharp claws and red eyes are clear.

Whoever he was when he was alive is no longer who he is now.

It’s no longer human.

Nor does it want Frank in this house.

The sight should bother me, but I’ve long grown used to the phantoms in this manor.

Must be why I’m so reckless with the one who continues to materialize before me long enough to whisper his finger across my flesh before disappearing again.

I look away from the sinister being and refocus on Frank’s reflection.

I don’t bother to tell him he’s not alone.

Frank sighs. “Gigi, I’ve been trying. You know how stubborn he can be.”

I do know that.

“I also know that we’ve barely scraped by these last couple of months. John recouped some of what he lost, just enough to pay a few bills. But we’re still on the brink of losing everything, Frank. And his drinking . . .”

Frank takes a menacing step toward me, though his ire is reserved for his best friend. “Has he hurt you?”

I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

However, the nervous energy spilling from my pores is potent enough to taste. My fingers flutter over my white-and-blue-floral dress, twisting the thin cotton material until wrinkles form. I spent an hour ironing clothes this morning, including this dress.

I force myself to stop abusing the fabric and settle for staring out the window again.

The monster is no longer in the reflection, and I let out a sigh of relief at that. Sometimes they like to scratch and push, and I’d hate to explain to Frank that an invisible entity is responsible.

It may make John’s drinking habit appear reasonable.

“Gigi,” he says with a sigh. “I told you . . . If you need help, I’m here for you. Whatever you need, anything at all, just tell me. Even if it’s comfort, I can help with that, too.”

I shake my head, speechless and uncomfortable. John may as well have stuck his fist down my throat to grab hold of my heart and crush it. I can’t speak around it, can’t stop him from shattering the muscle that I always thought was his to take care of.

I’m just . . . so tired.

Tears well in my eyes, distorting Frank’s reflection until my vision is as blurry as a window during a thunderstorm.

All the turbulent emotions inside me rise until they’re bubbling out, and before I know it, the dam releases.

“He came home so drunk last night, he didn’t even recognize me,” I choke out past a sob.

I sense Frank’s charging toward me, so I hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. The last thing I need is comfort.

At least . . . not from him.

“He had spit-up on his shirt, and when I was unbuttoning it to help him remove it, he laughed and asked me to promise not to tell his wife.” A tear spills down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. “He wanted . . .” I shake my head, unable to finish. Unable to tell his best friend that he pinned me to the bed and fucked me, fully convinced I was a random floozy.

When he was finished, I slapped him sober.

I’ve never been the type of woman to let a man treat me so awfully, and I certainly won’t start for my husband.

He had no idea what he had done when he awoke this morning. Not until I told him, at least. He apologized profusely, claiming that his actions were not his own and that he deserved to be slapped for it.

Like he had every day for the last sixteen years, he tried to place a soft goodbye kiss on my lips, but for the first time, I turned my cheek to him.

Wherever my forgiveness is, it’s not with him.

“Anyway,” I continue, sniffling and wiping away a few more stray tears. “I don’t expect you to fix his mistakes. I just want my husband back. I want my daughter’s father back. If you can make that happen, that’s the only thing I want from you.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop, and for a moment, I’m convinced the monster has returned.

I face Frank, only to find him glaring at the floor, his knuckles bleached white from how tightly he curls his fingers into his palms. After a few beats, he turns his fiery stare up to mine.

Frowning, I open my mouth, prepared to ask him what’s wrong, but he bites out his response first. “As you wish, Gigi.”

Then he’s turning and storming away, the front door slamming shut behind him moments later. I startle, a hand drifting over my racing heart.

What has gotten into all these men?

I can’t keep up any longer, and I’m beginning to favor the ghosts that haunt these halls.

At least they are predictable.

OceanofPDF.com