What Haunts Me Read Online Free Page A

part Justine…well, little Michael is….” She stopped and Justine squeezed her arm gently and gave her a knowing smile. I, however, had no clue what Annette was talking about. Annette smiled wanly in return and then said, “In fact, my daughter is bringing him over now for a bit of a visit. She has errands to run and my husband Fred is suffering from his arthritis today so I asked her to bring the boy here to be watched.”
    “That will be lovely dear. A change of scenery will be good for him, and Fred will enjoy visiting with him,” Justine said kindly as the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor.
    Annette waved goodbye and headed for the front door. Justine slowed her pace, leaned towards me in a conspiratorial manner, and quietly said, “Annette's grandson has leukemia…it's such a tragedy. I remember when the boy was born, right here in this building to be exact. Annette's son-in-law was overseas on business and Jeannette, her daughter, was staying with them because she was so close to delivery. The poor dear went into early labor, and by the time the ambulance arrived, the baby was on his way. They delivered him right there in Annette's living room.” Justine smiled as if it was a fond memory.
    I could see Annette through the glass in the front doors. She was at the curb, helping a younger woman get a small and fragile looking boy out of the car. The child could walk, but he was clearly in a weakened state. The younger woman handed Annette a backpack and leaned over to kiss the child. She then said something to her mother and got in her car and drove away. Annette began to walk slowly with the boy to the building entrance, so I scooted to the front door to open it for her. She smiled and thanked me, and when I turned around, I saw the man from a few days ago. He was standing near the elevator this time and he was staring at the boy. I couldn't say for sure if he had a mean or malicious look on his face, but this time I could feel him, his presence and something else, like a bad energy.
    I decided to test my theory right then and there. Justine was still standing by the elevator, very close to the apparition. I moved past her, gently nudging her to the side while simultaneously poking the thing with my finger. He snarled at me as he swirled away. To cover my strange movements, I called the elevator and held the door for my neighbor and her grandson. When I turned around to see if the boy had changed, he was just the same. Well, I thought, I guess that wasn't his demon. Maybe the boy just didn't have a demon.
    When I looked over at Justine, she was looking at the boy too. When she turned toward me, I could swear she'd seen what I had done, but then her expression changed to a smile. I would ask Justine later on if anyone else in the building had a sudden and unexplained recovery. Maybe the apparition belonged to Annette's husband Fred; after all, she had mentioned that his arthritis was acting up and that was certainly an ailment. I said my goodbyes and headed to tourist central to find more demons to poke.
    I decided to walk to Fisherman's Wharf. It was all downhill and I needed the exercise. I headed east toward Van Ness Avenue and then north from there to the Wharf.
    Why I was taking this business seriously, and why did I think these vintage-clothed apparitions were even ghosts? In no way did I feel like I was on the fast-track to lunacy…quite the opposite. In the last few hours I had encountered not one, but two of these things—apparitions or poltergeists or whatever they were—and somewhere deep down inside, something had clicked, like an ingrained knowledge or instinct. I knew what these things were and I knew they were real: and more importantly, I knew I had to kill them. And suddenly I firmly believed that the dreams brought on by the fever
were
actual memories and that I or someone else had locked them up in my head: and now, after years of pounding on the door of my subconscious, they'd