Read Online Loss, a paranormal thriller by Glen Krisch - Free Book Online
Authors: Glen Krisch
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as existing," she said aloud, wondering what she meant and where the words had come from. Living and existing... She pondered the existential bullshit as she hefted the case of booze and made for the door. Whatever the fuck... there is no more meaning to anything.
Once inside, she hurriedly dropped her keys in the bowl on the entryway table and set the case next to it just in time to catch Bizzy in her arms as the dog came rushing in from the kitchen.
"You make everything better. You know that, girl?"
The little dog wriggled in her arms and licked her chin. Just seeing Bizzy normally put a smile on Angie's face, but not today. She could feel darkness pulling at her, could feel the tears once again building in her eyes.
She'd failed, on multiple levels, she'd failed.
She'd never made it in to work. She'd allowed the bizarre memories or distortions of memory to surface. And seeing the box sitting on the entryway table... the worst failure of all.
Angie set Bizzy down and started for the great room, eyeing the phone sitting on the end table. She didn't even get halfway to the phone before she returned to the case for the bottle of whiskey. With Bizzy following her every move, Angie uncapped the bottle as she returned to the great room. She took a long swig, relishing the liquid burn in her throat, hating herself for not being able to move on with her life.
She dialed with one hand, while tipping the bottle with the other. By the time the phone started ringing, only dregs remained in the pint.
A click sounded as someone picked up on the other end.
Angie set the empty pint on the end table and turned away from it. Out of sight, out of mind.
"Hello?" a voice said.
"Hi, Steph, it's me. It's Angie..." she started before her voice cracked. She took a deep breath and continued. "I was going to come in today. I really was. I was going to surprise you and just show up, but I couldn't. I just couldn't make it."
"Angeline... this is Imogene. Stephanie is scheduled off today."
"But wait... who's running the office?"
"I am, of course. Same as always. Don't worry about coming in. We have everything working like a fine-tuned watch."
A wave of dizziness made Angie nearly drop the phone.
Imogene . That overbearing, controlling harpy. Why of all people did she have to answer the phone? Angie remembered her mother-in-law sitting in a cozy recliner near the fireplace at Fletcher's party on the night of the accident. With her smug look, her snide tone.
Oh, really, Angeline?
Angie could hear Imogene breathing on the other end of the phone. She had no doubt that she was smiling as well. Neither spoke for an uncomfortable length of seconds that felt more like minutes.
"I'll be back to work soon. I just need more time," Angie finally said. "When I come back, I want to be there 100%. I want to be back to my normal self."
"I know I said don't worry , Angeline, but what I should have said was, don't bother ."
Chapter 8
Bizzy's frenzied barking woke Angie sometime in the middle of the night. The moonlight streaming through the windows looked like midday sunlight as a late-season snowfall magnified its intensity. The flakes, flurrying like those in a shaken snow globe, sparkled like fairy dust sprinkled from the eaves of the house.
Angie groggily pulled herself into a sitting position on the couch, her head spinning with drink and her tongue tasting vile and thick in her mouth.
"Oh, no. I forgot, didn't I?" Pressing her palms to her temples, all Angie could think about was how she had failed to take Bizzy for her promised walk, only allowing her a short excursion limited by the length of the tether outside the sliding back door and how long it had taken to open a fresh bottle of wine.
Angie wiped a pasty spit from her lips with the back of her hand. She stood stiffly, unsteadily, waiting without daring to move, her eyes pressed tightly closed.
Once inside, she hurriedly dropped her keys in the bowl on the entryway table and set the case next to it just in time to catch Bizzy in her arms as the dog came rushing in from the kitchen.
"You make everything better. You know that, girl?"
The little dog wriggled in her arms and licked her chin. Just seeing Bizzy normally put a smile on Angie's face, but not today. She could feel darkness pulling at her, could feel the tears once again building in her eyes.
She'd failed, on multiple levels, she'd failed.
She'd never made it in to work. She'd allowed the bizarre memories or distortions of memory to surface. And seeing the box sitting on the entryway table... the worst failure of all.
Angie set Bizzy down and started for the great room, eyeing the phone sitting on the end table. She didn't even get halfway to the phone before she returned to the case for the bottle of whiskey. With Bizzy following her every move, Angie uncapped the bottle as she returned to the great room. She took a long swig, relishing the liquid burn in her throat, hating herself for not being able to move on with her life.
She dialed with one hand, while tipping the bottle with the other. By the time the phone started ringing, only dregs remained in the pint.
A click sounded as someone picked up on the other end.
Angie set the empty pint on the end table and turned away from it. Out of sight, out of mind.
"Hello?" a voice said.
"Hi, Steph, it's me. It's Angie..." she started before her voice cracked. She took a deep breath and continued. "I was going to come in today. I really was. I was going to surprise you and just show up, but I couldn't. I just couldn't make it."
"Angeline... this is Imogene. Stephanie is scheduled off today."
"But wait... who's running the office?"
"I am, of course. Same as always. Don't worry about coming in. We have everything working like a fine-tuned watch."
A wave of dizziness made Angie nearly drop the phone.
Imogene . That overbearing, controlling harpy. Why of all people did she have to answer the phone? Angie remembered her mother-in-law sitting in a cozy recliner near the fireplace at Fletcher's party on the night of the accident. With her smug look, her snide tone.
Oh, really, Angeline?
Angie could hear Imogene breathing on the other end of the phone. She had no doubt that she was smiling as well. Neither spoke for an uncomfortable length of seconds that felt more like minutes.
"I'll be back to work soon. I just need more time," Angie finally said. "When I come back, I want to be there 100%. I want to be back to my normal self."
"I know I said don't worry , Angeline, but what I should have said was, don't bother ."
Chapter 8
Bizzy's frenzied barking woke Angie sometime in the middle of the night. The moonlight streaming through the windows looked like midday sunlight as a late-season snowfall magnified its intensity. The flakes, flurrying like those in a shaken snow globe, sparkled like fairy dust sprinkled from the eaves of the house.
Angie groggily pulled herself into a sitting position on the couch, her head spinning with drink and her tongue tasting vile and thick in her mouth.
"Oh, no. I forgot, didn't I?" Pressing her palms to her temples, all Angie could think about was how she had failed to take Bizzy for her promised walk, only allowing her a short excursion limited by the length of the tether outside the sliding back door and how long it had taken to open a fresh bottle of wine.
Angie wiped a pasty spit from her lips with the back of her hand. She stood stiffly, unsteadily, waiting without daring to move, her eyes pressed tightly closed.
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