SHUDDERVILLE Read Online Free

furiously. “He scooped Jayla up in his arms. You chased him out of the house and across the front lawn, and you grabbed your little girl by the arm and pulled, and Jayla screamed. She reached for you, but your fingers slipped apart. Peter locked her in his car and you ran around trying all the doors. Behind the glass, Jayla’s face was wet from crying.” He waved his scrawny arms in the air. “He backed out of the driveway, tires squealing, and you stood there screaming for him to stop. You ran after them as they sped away. You chased them all the way down the block, trying to save your daughter, and then you fell and scraped your elbows and knees on the asphalt. Screaming Jayla’s name. And the Toyota disappeared down the street, and you never saw your little girl again. There was a terrible accident. And now they’re dead. Peter and Jayla.”
    She stood, frozen and shaking. Catatonic with fright.
    The tears were spilling freely from his eyes now, dripping off his nose and chin. He lowered his voice. “But it wasn’t your fault, Sophie. You did everything you could. You have to stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over. How about a cup of coffee?”
    She couldn’t catch her breath.
    “Easy kid. I know. I know.” He took out an embroidered linen handkerchief and mopped the sweat off his brow. He wiped the tears from his eyes. “You want a cup of coffee? A glass of milk? Warm milk? We could heat it up and put cocoa in it.”
    “How do you know what happened that day?” she gasped. “You can’t possibly know all those details! They weren’t in the newspaper.”
    “Even if I explained, you wouldn’t understand.” He grabbed her sleeve. “I’ll grant you one wish. Don’t be hasty. Think about it.”
    A shiver shot across her heart.
    “One wish,” he repeated.
    “One wish? A wish ? What the hell is this, some kind of a joke? What’s going on?” she said furiously. “How do you know all these things about me? Who’s been talking to you?”
    “Nobody,” he said firmly. “I know because I know.”
    “How?” she shouted. “How do you know?”
    He gazed at her as if he were trying to memorize her face. “Is it a deal? Do we have a deal, young lady?”
    Sophie gave a frightened shriek and tore out of the apartment as if her hair was on fire.
    *
    That evening, she bolted her front door and fell asleep on the sofa. She woke up around midnight in terrible pain. This phantom pain, this imitation labor, slowly faded, and a murky image of Jayla appeared. Mommy? After a moment, Jayla’s blurry face imploded on itself. The more she tried to visualize her, the hazier she became. Her beautiful little girl was disappearing from her memory.
    Sophie’s pulse points throbbed as she struggled to conjure up Jayla’s face again, to force a clearer image, but nothing happened. Nothing. How could she forget what her dead daughter looked like? How could she?
    She stared miserably at the radiator hissing in a corner of the room and reached for her pills, but the prescription bottle was empty. She would have to schedule another doctor’s appointment. She needed something stronger to help her sleep. Oh God, when would this grief ever end? She got up and tore through the entire kitchen, looking for something to drink, but the last of the wine bottles was empty.
    In a panic, she got dressed, grabbed her keys and headed next door. She pounded on Ryan’s door until it swung open.
    “Sophie? What’s wrong?”
    “Does there have to be anything wrong?”
    “No. Are you all right? Come on in.”
    She went inside and looked around. Cassie appeared to be gone. “I need a drink. Or some of that pot you were smoking. Anything.”
    “Cool. Have a seat.” He fetched her a beer and handed her a joint.
    Sophie wanted to get wasted. She wanted to obliterate this gnawing fear, to wipe the slate clean. Blank slate. She would get a lobotomy. A 1950s frontal-lobe lobotomy.
    “I need to ask you something,” she