Exceprt:
She missed Charlie. Always, she missed Charlie. Yet she knew even Charlie would not have been able to stop what was happening to her, or help her to protect the baby. The baby she was now quite certain was not his. Her heart began to beat double-time in acknowledgment of the dreadful truth.
The clock on the mantle ticked away like a bomb in the silent room. Almost one-thirty in the morning. Dora would be home soon, and they didn’t like to make themselves known to others.
Usually, they arrived when she was alone, or in the early morning hours when Dora was sound asleep. She’d be safe once Dora got back. She wrapped her arms protectively around her belly and watched the silent screen.
Minutes later, her head snapped up. The soft sound of a whispered voice floated toward her. “No… please,” she moaned. She placed her hands over her ears and began to slowly rock back and forth. Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. She felt flushed, fevered. The baby kicked inside her, as if in warning. “Go away,” she whispered into the empty room.
Other menacing voices chimed in, whispering sly words she could not make out. Soon, the subtle, sinister sounds surrounded her. She closed her eyes and tried to will them away, but it did no good. Suddenly, the hushed voices turned loud, making the hair at the nape of her neck stand up. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. As the angry voices rose in unison, terror engulfed her all over again.
Invisible hands began to prod and poke at her. Phantom fingers brushed against her face and hair. Soon the slapping sensations on her arms and around her head would begin. Lilli sat helplessly on the couch, shielding herself against what she knew was coming. When the first blows struck, she jumped up and tried to fight them off, but her fists encountered only air.
As she tried to defend herself against the phantasms, something she saw on the side table caused her to freeze in shock. She stood perfectly still, the blood in her veins turning to sludge, no longer aware of the unseen hands pushing and slapping at her. “That’s impossible,” she whispered to herself. She stared in disbelief. The pendant. The one she had thrown away in Morocco. It can’t be. But there it sat anyway, glittering malignantly. A bolt of dread shot through her. Somehow, the awful thing had found its way back to her.
