Steve has been mourning the loss off his wife, Diane, for over a year. He feels he's the reason she died and he can't shake his guilt. On the one year anniversary of her death, he has a chance to make things right. His decision could change his life, for good….or for evil.
Warnings: This title contains graphic language, explicit sex and scenes of violence.
Word Count: 7,264
As he was crossing the hall from his bedroom to the bathroom, he froze in his tracks. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end when he smelled Diane's perfume wafting into his nostrils. He knew it was impossible, but he turned and looked around his apartment anyway, hoping beyond hope the last year was just a horrible nightmare.
When he saw nothing, he turned and headed back into the bathroom. He froze once more when he saw the shower curtain move as if someone had just stepped into the shower. He took the few steps to the tub, grabbed the curtain and jerked it to the left, feeling the droplets of water running down the curtain and landing on his feet. Shaking his head at the ridiculous thoughts, he stepped under the steamy water.
He soaped himself up, rinsed then washed his hair. Leaning down to turn off the water, he stopped again when he heard a soft female voice ask if he'd wash her back, too. He turned to see who was speaking, slipped on the floor of the tub and nearly fell, pulling the plastic shower curtain out of a few of the rings holding it in place on the rod.
"Get a grip, Steve." He regained his footing and stepped out of the shower.
He grabbed the large towel off the rack next to the shower and dried himself off before he used the it to soak up the water, which had escaped the confines of the tub. Running his fingers through his short brown hair, he grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his waist before heading back into his bedroom.
He sat down on the edge of his bed. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, sighing heavily at how his life had turned out over the past year. He raised his head when he smelled Diane's perfume again, breathing deeply and closing his eyes, remembering how she looked, how she felt, how much he loved her. He flopped back on the bed with his arms tucked under his head and his legs spread. The towel loosened, exposing his soft member. He closed his eyes and let himself pretend. He could feel his body reacting to his thoughts.
“Is that for me?”
His eyes sprung open. He let out a gasp when he saw Diane standing over him, wearing the costume she'd had on the night she died. He sat up, reaching out to touch her, only to be forced back down to the bed.
Diane's eyes, normally a pale blue were as black as night. Her skin was pasty white, a stark contrast to her ruby red lips. Her hair was a tangled mess, covered with dirt and dried blood.
Steve rolled off the bed on the opposite side and stood. He stared at his dead wife with fear and shock in his eyes. She reached her arms out to him, beckoning him to come to her.
"You aren't real! You're a figment of my imagination!"
"Am I?" Her voice was low and quivering, not sounding anything like she should have.
Steve backed himself against the wall, unable to tear his eyes away from her. He paid no attention to the fact he stood naked, having lost his towel. Uncontrollable fear showed on his face.
Diane took a few steps forward, stopping briefly when she reached the edge of the bed. She glanced down, waved her hand at the mattress and simply walked through the bed as if it were thin air.
"What kind of sick joke is this?" He looked around the room, looking for anything to explain how she was here.
"This isn’t a joke. I've come back for you, my love."
"You should’ve died with me, Steven. I’m lonely. I've come back for you. We can finally be together again."
This book was added to our catalog on Friday 25 October, 2013.