Dead Silence
Page 14
“You will not touch her,” a woman screamed. “Por favor!”
My fear for the girl grew as the door to her room slammed open. She jumped, her eyes wider as the menacing form of a large, hulking man with wild green eyes entered her room.
“Everly,” he growled, stomping into the room. She scooted away from him, her small hands still clutching her blanket. “They want you.”
“Don’t touch her,” the woman screamed, rushing into the room. She looked like the girl—long dark hair and a pretty face. The man reached out and struck the woman across the face, sending her flying into the wall where she banged her head and slid down, her body limp.
“Mommy,” little Everly cried out, scrambling to her feet. The little girl tried to run behind her bed, but the man was fast and caught her by her hair, yanking her back to him. He gripped her tightly, pressing his hand over her mouth as she kicked and screamed.
“It has started! They want you! You are a curse that they can have!”
He pulled her small struggling body to the closet I’d just escaped from and opened the door. The stench of death permeated the room. The wails from the monsters inside caused me to cover my ears. I watched in horror as many sets of gnarled, dead hands reached out. The girl was thrust forward and captured by the creatures in her closet.
“Daddy! Daddy! Please,” she screamed as they tore at her, pulling her into the darkness. He only stood here watching, a grim expression on his face as she was taken away.
Her father had let her go. I watched as he went to his wife who lay unconscious on the floor. He scooped her limp body up easily and left the room. I stared at the closed closet door, my mind made up before I even contemplated it.
I drew in a deep breath as I approached the door. I was going to save her. It was a decision easily made. I was put there for a reason.
She was my reason, and I’d die before I let something happen to her.
Afterword
Suicide and attempted suicide is not just a fictional topic. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, please seek help. There are no get out of death free cards in real life. Talk with a counselor, a teacher or call 1-800-273-8255. The world would be much darker without you in it.
Acknowledgments
This is the part where I humbly praise the folks involved in making this story happen. First, a big thanks to my husband and kids. They tolerated me “in my office”, which is just me sitting in my bedroom with my noise canceling headset on. I’d also like to thank my mom, sister, and Melinda. You guys have been a big help and are probably heads of my fan club! My grandma (God rest her soul) should be mentioned. Without her belief in me, and my strange ideas, I may have just kept all my stories bottled up inside. I want to thank my grandpa. Every moment of writer’s block was worth it to see the smile on his face as I hand him one of my books. My dad deserves a shout out. He tolerates my weirdness with a laugh, snort, or eye roll. Good on him! Authors S.R. Mitchell, Kelly Moore, K.B. Andrews, C.M. Lally—you ladies rock! Your positivity, chats, and random hot guy images have gotten me through many days. It’s always Wednesday, K.B. Andrews! Charlotte, my editor, has been a godsend. Truly. She’s a word wizard and all-around goddess. Thank you to my beta/ARC readers and members of my street team! Your feedback and excitement propels me to keep writing!
A big thank you to you. Yes, you. The person reading this right now. Thank you for taking the time to read Ever’s story. Thank you for the opportunity to pull you into my vortex of oddness. I sincerely hope that I’ve been able to take you into a world filled with adventure and have been able to entertain you for at least two consecutive hours. If I haven’t, message me immediately with your concerns. I’ve been known to send digital chocolate chip cookies!
And finally, I want to thank the shadows. The ghosts. The things that go bump in the night. Without all their efforts, I’d have never been able to find the courage within me to carry on through tough times. They made me stronger. Wiser. And super kick-ass.
Did I not tell you that Dead Silence was based on a true story?! Oops. I must’ve forgot. . .
About the Author
K.G. Reuss was born and raised in Michigan. She currently resides there with her husband and children. When she isn’t freaking herself out by writing creepy stories, she can be found working in emergency medicine.
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