By the time I was eight, Mom made the decision to place me in a psychiatric hospital, a place where someone else could deal with me, and my father allowed it. I never forgave either of them for it, but apparently, my constant conversations with people no one else could see was starting rumors and gossip around town. I was officially a freak and also a complete embarrassment.
Two months later, when I was finally released and diagnosed with “split personality disorder,” I knew the doctors were full of shit. I was fine, a normal pre-adolescent girl. I made good grades and obeyed the rules. Who cared if I could talk to ghosts? Turns out, everyone cared, and it was too much for the religious traditionalist, small town of Wathena, Kansas.
When I returned to school, “Elise the Freak” had become my new nickname. Not at all creative, and I tried to ignore it, even laughed with the ignorant, fourth grade bullies to hide my pain, but it was too late. I had become the laughing stock of the school, and I just wanted it to stop. So, I kept to myself and managed well enough. I had to grow up quickly, realizing I needed to keep a low profile and stay away from school activities and social situations.
Once I approached my freshman year, I had convinced my parents to let me homeschool. From then on, I never stepped one foot into the public school system again. I became a homebody, cooped up for years, studying hard, and continuing to make excellent grades. What I lacked in experiencing the world, I made up for by learning everything I could about psychic abilities. I devoured book after book because my gifts were expanding.
When I reached my senior year, I had been accepted to the University of Texas and was beyond ecstatic. Finally, I could escape this shithole small town, and start fresh. At last, something amazing would come out of a life without friends, well, except one.
Sylvia.
She’s dead of course, and when she came to me, I knew immediately she was different than the other spirits, I just couldn’t understand why. I was naïve and didn’t realize she was actually my guide, an attending spirit that every person on the planet has. I could just see and talk to mine.
My phone dings, and I glance over to the nightstand. “About freaking time,” I whisper to myself in frustration, when a loud crash startles me and I jump.
What the hell?
Instantly, I’m on my feet, eyes focused down the hallway. My body is trembling from the burst of adrenaline, but I already know adrenaline has little to do with this. Something isn’t right, and I stand frozen in fear, trying to assess what the hell is going on. A familiar sense of dread washes over me like a thick, black fog, and I swallow hard, the hair on my neck starting to rise.
Holy Mother of God.
Liv and Becca.
They have found me.
This can’t be happening. I did everything to protect myself. I even sealed all doorframes and drenched every baseboard in tar water. Only good spirits are allowed to enter, the lost ones who need my help crossing over. I don’t understand this. It’s virtually impossible for anything negative to cross my protected boundaries. This doesn’t make any sense.
Unless...
Something or someone else is letting them in.
I pull in several deep breaths, pushing back my fear and telling myself to stay calm. There’s no need to panic I can handle this. But Liv and Becca are getting closer. I’ve got to do something, and fast. I can feel their movement.
Without thinking, I close my eyes and focus on my surroundings. I need all of my abilities working in unison, so reluctantly I open myself up. I don’t have a choice.
This apartment building has to be a hundred years old, and it’s also huge, at least ten thousand square feet, maybe more. The good thing is, there are only two apartments to search. One above and one below, and they’re almost identical to mine. Remote viewing should be a cinch, so I start at the bottom.
Just get in and get out, easy peasy.
I swallow hard and concentrate, blowing out a long breath.
My vision starts out unfocused and choppy, like streaming a movie still trying to download. Slowly, the bits begin connecting together. I can tell the dude that lives here isn’t home. The lights are off, and the apartment is dark. I’m in the bedroom looking at a disheveled mattress on the floor with scattered clothes everywhere, but nothing sinister. I make my way to the bathroom; the mirror is hue of spattered watermarks and God knows what. Several towels lie wadded in a corner, but still, no sign of ghosts. I move on to the kitchen, and then the closets, even the hallway, but sense nothing. The only scary things I see are the real people who come and go at all hours of the night.
What could be causing this?
I pull in another deep, soothing breath and slowly move to the upstairs unit. I only get halfway up and double over as wave after wave of anger, depression, sadness, and revenge hit me like a punch in my gut.
Holy hell.
A portal. That’s how Liv and Becca found me, that’s how they got in. It’s directly above me, in the closet, and it’s looming with negativity. They’re the cause of it.
I haven’t officially met my neighbors, I’ve only lived here a few months, but I do know a man lives in that apartment. I saw him once as we passed one another on the stairway only days ago, but that was enough. He wore blue scrubs, and appeared to be in his late twenties. The second he ran a hand through his black, wavy hair and glanced up, his piercing green eyes shot straight through me. Describing him as good-looking would be an understatement. The man was otherworldly, a freaking god. But I managed not to stare and smiled instead, flustered at how attracted I was to him.
Thinking back, it did surprise me that I couldn’t get a read on him. It was the first time something like that had ever happened. He was like a solid brick wall, completely closed off. Typically, I can get a feel on a complete stranger within the first few minutes. But this guy was totally different. I walked away with an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach. Not bad, not good, just nothing.
The bigger question is, does he realize there’s a portal in his bedroom closet? Is he trying to communicate with the dead? God knows there are always plenty of dead people around me. Can he sense them too? Could he have abilities like me? Or could he have inadvertently attracted something malevolent?
Out of nowhere, the night wind picks up, moving through the trees outside my window. I open my eyes just as the shadow of a branch knocks heavily against the glass, and I jump, forcing myself to stay put. I need to keep my focus instead of bolting like a little girl under the covers. I can’t hide from Liv and Becca. I never could.
A dark cloud of overwhelming dread advances toward me, blacker than black, hanging heavily in the air. They’re getting closer, about to cross the threshold into my bedroom.
Holy mother...
I brace myself, hands wrapping around my shoulders as a haze of tears blur my vision. I take several steps back and whisper, “Only goodness and light may enter this space, only goodness and light…”
Total blackness engulfs the room, and my heart begins to pound in my head. I manage not to move, holding my ground as I chant the words over and over again, “Only goodness and light may enter this space, only goodness and light…”
Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate!
My eyes dart around, watching the moonlight slowly brighten the room once again as it streams through the window. I gasp, clutching my chest, relieved to see the blackness and foreboding gloom lift and dissolve into the ceiling, as if being summoned away. I rush to the light switch and flip it on, staring up at the exact spot. He’s there. The unbelievably gorgeous man I passed on the stairs is right above me. I can feel him. I think he can feel me, too.