Haunting Zoe Read Online Free PDF Page B

one of
my favorites. As I curl into my comfy old reading chair, Brim leaps
up and curls into a ball on my lap. Soon I’m lost in the pages. I
don’t look up again until a clap of thunder shakes the house.
Carefully moving Brim onto my bed I pull back my sheer curtains.
The sky is dark and droplets of rain cover the glass.
    I glance at the clock. It’s almost seven now
and my stomach growls, taking advantage of the break in my reading
to remind me that one can’t live on Cheetos alone. Setting my book
beside the still sleeping cat I head back to the kitchen. The
kitchen light flickers but manages to stay on. I grab the long
black flashlight from the junk drawer, just in case. A flash of
light bursts through the windows over the kitchen sink followed
quickly by a roll of thunder so loud that the tiny hairs on the
back of my neck jump to attention. I shiver and pour myself a glass
of milk and toss a few slices of leftover pineapple pizza onto a
plate. As I turn back to my room, the lights flicker again. When
the flickering stops I’m no longer alone in the kitchen. I don’t
scream. I think I’m too startled for that. I can’t even draw in a
breath. I’m frozen, unable to think beyond the face staring back at
me. The glass and plate slip through my fingers, crashing to the
floor and shattering at my bare feet. Logan stands in front of me
with his hands held out .
    “Don’t move,” he says urgently.
    Then I scream.

 

     
    The scream rips its way up my body and
explodes like a volcano out my mouth. I take a step back and feel
bits of glass cut into the bottom of my foot. Lifting my weight off
the foot I tumble backwards, landing in a pile of glass and
porcelain.
    “Stop moving,” Logan commands. “You’re going
to cut yourself to shreds.”
    I take a deep breath and scream again, only
this time my voice is strained so the sound comes out ragged and
strangled.
    “Will you please stop screaming? Seriously
Zoe.”
    My eyes are wide. My heart is pounding
against my ribcage so hard I think I might actually throw up. I
take another breath, but this time I hold it in until I can’t
anymore and it expels in a hot rush.
    “What are you doing here?”
    He folds his arms, looking smug. “What am I
doing here, as in here in your kitchen, or do you mean here in more
general terms? As in why am I not—“
    “Rotting in the ground somewhere?”
    He wrinkles his nose. “I was going to say
dead, but thanks for the vivid.”
    Slowly my senses start coming back into
focus. The pain in my foot is intense, but not enough to distract
from the sliver of glass stuck in my forearm.
    “I’m bleeding,” I say, watching the crimson
leaking down my arm and off of my elbow as I inspect it.
    “That happens when you fall into a pile of
broken glass.”
    I glare at him, “Shut up, Logan.”
    I grab the sliver of glass with two fingers
and pull it out quickly. The blood flows more freely, pooling
beside me. I toss the toothpick sized sliver aside. Using my other
arm like a mop to clear a space, I slide myself back out of the
glass and press my back against the wall. Bringing my foot up for
inspection, I see the cut. It’s shallow and there is nothing in the
wound. My hands shake as I pull myself to my feet, using the handle
of the fridge door for support. I skirt around the glass, stepping
carefully as I maneuver around Logan without looking up at him, and
make my way, limping, to the bathroom.
    Scooping the first aid kit from under the
sink I flip the lid down and sit on the toilet. I can feel Logan
staring at me as I clean the cut on the bottom of my foot and stick
a bandage over it. My arm is still bleeding, but it’s not too bad
anymore so I wipe off the excess blood with a wad of toilet
paper.
    “That probably needs stitches,” he says. I
can see that he’s leaned up against the counter, his feet crossed
at the ankles. But I don’t dare look up. Looking him in the eyes is
like feeding the delusion.
    Ignoring him, I slap a