Free Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) by Kelly Martin Page A

my mother.
    I’m afraid of myself.
    This is too big for me. Way too big, and the only way I can deal with it is to clean the blood stains off my recliner.
    Mundane.
    Normal.
    God, to be normal.
    The phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Must be my guilty conscious. “Why no, officer, we haven’t seen any of those missing people around here.” All the while Hart is throwing dirt on their grave.
    I don’t want to answer it. I figure if I wait long enough, it’ll eventually stop ringing, and then everything will be fine. Well, as fine as it can be.
    If I ever write a story about my life, I do believe I’ll call it Denial: The Gracen Sullivan Story .
    Thankfully, blessedly, the phone stops ringing after the fifth ring. Yay!
    My happiness lasts for all of three seconds. That’s how long it takes for the phone to start ringing again.
    Sam and I had talked about not having a landline and only using a cellphone for all our calls. My phone was upstairs. I wouldn’t have had to hear it ringing, wondering who it was on the other end.
    I wish we’d made a different decision.
    I wish we’d made a lot of different decisions.
    I throw the bleach-filled paper towels away in the kitchen, careful not to look outside the window at whatever Hart is doing. I mean, I know what he’s doing. But if I really make myself, I can make myself believe that he’s planting a garden…
    Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary…
    The phone rings for the third time, and I decide I should at least look at the answering machine. Mellow. I fell strangely mellow. Normally, something like this would have ticked me off to no end. Now, I don’t even think I care. Having someone dig a mass grave in your backyard will do that to a person.
    It’s not like I run to the phone. I do take my time because I still swear up and down that it’s the police—I don’t care what Hart says about taking care of it—and they are calling to see if we’ve seen all the missing people. Do the police even call anymore? Or ever? Heck if I know, but I do know that I’m a bit paranoid now. Another side effect of… well… the mass grave.
    When I see the name on the caller ID, it’s much, much worse than the police.
    My mother.
    My mind instantly flashes back to the dream I had, the nightmare.
    The alley.
    The knife.
    The blood.
    Seth.
    My mother dying.
    I killed her.
    I killed her.
    Everything I have in me wants to answer that phone. I want my mommy. If we could go back to how things used to be, I’d be the happiest girl in the world.
    But I know I can’t be around her.
    What if the Abomination inside me gets loose and does something? What if my nightmare is true, and I kill her?
    I can’t live with that. I wouldn’t be able to.
    I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop it. Who kills their mother?
    Then again, if I don’t answer the phone, she’ll worry. Her house isn’t that far from Crimson Ridge, and she’ll be up here as soon as she can if she thinks I’m in trouble. With the world in such chaos, who wouldn’t think I was in trouble?
    Finally, I pick up the phone. My heart beats wildly in my chest as the fear takes over. I don’t want to hurt her… I don’t want to hurt anybody…
    “Hello.” I try to sound peppy and innocent. I don’t want to give her any reason in the world to worry.
    “Gracen Marie Sullivan!” she says in that mom tone that lets you know you’ve done something very, very bad.
    Those three words are all she has to say before I go off on a big excuse tirade. “I’m sorry, Mama! I wasn’t around the phone or even up yet. And I had to run downstairs because my cellphone was upstairs and…”
    “I called it first.” Her voice is low, deep, and irritated as heck.
    I also think she’s scared. That makes two of us. Only I’m not just scared of what’s happening in the world or even in my backyard, I’m terrified of what’s happening inside me.
    “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. There are no excuses. Funny how even someone