[PTX] Cursed - Supernaturals Series Book I

Chapter Three

uh, warning for a brief depiction of suicide and some gruesome imagery

*****

By the time my hair is completely dry, art is already half over. I check out my new look in the mirror. It looks . . . really good, actually. Better than I thought it would, considering this is the first time I've ever done this.

Satisfied, I grab my backpack and practically skip out the bathroom door. It's amazing how much fun this was! I feel all rebellious, and that's a big change from my usual 'good girl' personality. No wonder Yvette skips class sometimes.

I turn the corner into a busier hallway -- and stop in my tracks. A chill runs down my spine. Instead of seeing the hallway, all I can see is a man standing on a roof. His toes are hanging over the edge, hair ruffling in the wind. Oh my God, what is he doing? He’s going to hurt himself! I open my mouth to say something -- and he pitches forward, arms spread wide, hurtling to the ground. His head cracks against pavement, blood and brain and chunks of bone spraying everywhere. I scream, too shrill and too loud, eyes wide and unable to look away from his splattered body.

The image fades and I’m still screaming. The entire hallway is looking at me. Heartbeat wild, throat constricted, I stumble back a few steps. I need to get out. I need to get out of here.

“Kirstie?” Oh, God, that’s Jeremy, I forgot he has a free period right now. He looks concerned as he approaches -- concerned and nervous, like I’m going to attack him. How could he think that? I’d never hurt him--

“Kirstie? Aren’t you that kid in the penthouse?” My eyes slide to a point behind Jeremy’s head, where a man is standing there staring at me. He looks familiar. One of my neighbours? “Yeah, it must be you. Why am I seeing you? I shouldn’t be here. Wait, no, you shouldn’t be here!”

Oh, God, that blue button-down. The image of it soaked in blood is still fresh in my mind.

“I jumped! I fucking jumped!” He takes a step forward -- and passes right through Jeremy. My hand flies up to stifle my gasp. I stumble back a few steps as the man slowly approaches, screams getting louder, eyes wide. “I should be dead!” Suddenly he’s a mangled mess of skin and bone, head cracked open and spilling brain matter, one eye hanging from its socket, arms bent in crooked angles with the bone sticking through skin.

“Stop that!” I scream, backpedalling again, stomach in my throat.

“Kirstie?” Jeremy takes his own step back.

Cold, wispy fingers pass through my shoulder. “Kirstie? Your name is Kirstie? Will you listen to me, please? I need to talk to you, it’s very urgent-”

The bent and broken man shifts back to normal. “Look, lady, I was here first! I’m talking to the kid!”

“I need a turn!”

“Little girl,” a sickly sweet voice sings in my ear. I whirl around, but there’s nobody there. “You can hear all of us, can’t you.” The whisper directly into my ear sends a tremor through my body. “We heard your siren’s song. Like a beacon.” Cold clenches around my heart.

“Go away!” I spin, shoving past Jeremy and sprinting down the hall, heart racing.

“You can’t run away from this, little girl.” I shriek, frantically swatting at the air around my ear, veering down a secluded hallway. “We’ll always be around.”

I dive into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind me. Oh God, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe -- pressing a hand to my chest, feeling the frantic beating of my heart, I try to calm down my breathing. In, out, in--

“Really, girl?” the cough-syrup-sweet voice chimes in from my right. Ice fills my veins as I glance over to see a tall, dapper man drift through the wall. Through. He grins a Cheshire grin. “Do you really think closed doors will stop us?”

I swallow, reaching behind me with a wildly shaking hand for the doorknob, keeping my eyes locked with his.

He grin falls, replaced by an ugly scowl. “Stop running, stupid girl.” One blink and his face is nearly pressed against mine -- and it’s blackened and peeling, one eye missing. He grins, cracked lips curling back to reveal charred teeth. “Do I have your attention now? I don’t think you’re going anywhere, are you?”

Another scream rips itself from my throat. I stumble past him, hips knocking against desk corners. The window. I need to get out. Daylight shines like a beacon, the light at the end of a dark tunnel.

My hands are on the latch when the door slams open behind me. I shriek, spinning and falling to the ground. A man -- a security guard -- rushes inside, followed by familiar-faced teachers. The gruesome dapper man is there, too, his face back to normal.

“They’re going to cut short our playtime,” he sings, grinning at me. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little more fun before you go.” His whistle pierces the air, ear-splitting -- and then more figures pour in through the walls.

A hand lands on my shoulder. I react instinctively, shoving it away, dashing for the window. Too late, too slow. Hands close around my elbows, dragging me back into a tight hold.

“Hey, listen to me!” The first man leans in, head cracking again. I scream, throat so hoarse it doesn’t come out as anything but a raspy wail.

“Please, please, let me go!” The security guard holding me doesn’t listen. He lowers me to the ground, ignoring my flailing limbs, getting a faceless teacher’s help to hold me there on my side. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t--”

Someone is murmuring, “it’s going to be alright, Kirstie, just calm down,” and then another colder voice, directly in my ear, hisses, “it won’t be alright, it will never be alright.”

The dapper man crouches near me, burnt and blackened face leaning down into mine, grinning and he purrs, “are we having fun yet?”

I scream again, vision going dark, throat tightening up. I want my Mom.