Page 60 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Forty-nine

Mallory

R ing…

Ring…

Ring…

“What?” The gruff voice on the other end of the line snaps.

“Bellamy?”

“Why are you calling me, Barbra?”

“This isn’t Barbra, it’s her daughter.” The silence is so absolute, I swear this man has stopped breathing. Dead air hangs between us for so long, I check my phone screen to ensure the call hasn’t dropped. “Hello?”

“How do you have this number, Mallory?”

“I found it.”

“No shit.”

“I’m looking for my parents…who you obviously fucking know,” I retort with some bite. I can be a dick too.

“Do yourself a favour, don’t go looking for people you’re better off without.”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” I can feel his irritation with me mount through the call.

Tough shit. I want answers. If this Bellamy asshole knows anything about my parents’ disappearance, I need to know.

“Did Dennis or my mother ever mention being followed or harassed by a cop, or anyone else?”

“No,” he snips. “Are they missing?”

“Yeah, they have been for almost a year.”

“Consider yourself lucky, then. Lose this number?—”

“Wait! What the fuck does that mean? You’re the second person to say something cryptic like that to me.

I just fucking wish someone would tell me what the hell is going on.

I deserve to know…they fucking abandoned me.

” I’m completely aware I’m rambling to a stranger, trying to gain an ounce of sympathy from someone who is so detached and cold he’s chilling me to the bone with only a few words.

“SECOND PERSON!?” he exclaims. “Who else have you contacted?” Is that a hint of concern I hear in his voice? No, it can’t be, he doesn’t even know who I am.

“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

“Stay the fuck out of this, Mallory. You’re finally in the clear. Don’t call me again.”

Click.

Well, that was a complete waste of time.

I toss my phone onto my bed then go to have a shower.

Nox wants me to get a Halloween costume for the Henderson Haunt next weekend.

Honestly, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty screwdriver than be in a crowded place with a bunch of inebriated out-of-towners, but Lennox needs my support so I’ll grin and bear it .

Steaming hot water sluices down my body as my mind floats back to my phone conversation.

Why do I have this nagging feeling Bellamy talked like he knew me?

Or like he at least knew of me? I scour the murky pits of my mind, but nothing registers.

So many people came and went from my old house that all their faces are now a blur.

I made a point of not learning the names of Dennis’s friends or “co-workers”.

The less I knew, the better. Maybe if I saw Bellamy it would all click together…

He has to know something, he knew my name for fuck sakes.

I don’t know how I missed that in the moment.

I wish I could turn back time and interrogate him about it, but I’m almost certain if I called him again, he wouldn’t answer.

I rinse my hair and body, then turn off the tap. Wringing out my ebony tresses then exiting the shower, I dry off. Bellamy knows something, and I’m going to dig until I find out what it is.

I dress quickly then make the long drive to the only Halloween store in town.

I’m surprised Nox’s truck isn’t parked out front already since I’m always notoriously late, but maybe he just got held up with Detective Jefferds.

Our bang session on the kitchen floor definitely delayed him more than a few minutes.

It took me forever to cum, and when I did, it was half-hearted and barely satisfying.

I’m too in my own head. I know it, but not how to stop it.

I’m so fucking self aware lately that I know I’m trying to ignore myself.

It’s maddening. I need to lose myself in him again.

He’s my fucking lifeline, the tether to my sanity, and I’m unwinding quicker than I’d like to admit without his ability to keep me grounded .

Pulling into an empty stall, I park and take out my phone.

Pressing the call now button on Ghost’s contact screen, I wait for him to pick up, monotonously tapping my self-painted, chipped black nails on the steering wheel.

His voicemail clicks on instead, so I hang up without leaving a message, and pocket my phone.

He must still be in his meeting. I’m not a child, I can shop for a costume alone.

Without him here, I’m not at risk for leaving with something slutty that barely covers my tits or ass.

The bell above the door rings as I enter, an older lady I recognize as Martha sits behind the register.

She owns the only thrift store in town, and it’s news to me that she owns this building that's rented out for seasonal shit throughout the year, too. Next month it’ll be stuffed full with Christmas crap, and I’ll avoid it like the plague.

Stepping one foot in the door will have a glowing nose attached to my face, and a candy cane shoved in my ass because it’s the holiday season.

She waves hello, and I awkwardly wave back.

Could I be anymore socially inept? I make my way through the store, looking for the women’s section.

However, I’m immediately distracted by the wall adorned with masks.

There’s about ten different Ghostface ones, but the original white one is still my favourite, awakening a needy thump in my lady cave.

Is this what I need? For Nox to put the mask back on?

The darkness in Ghost calls to me, it always has.

It coaxed my own darkness out from the box I had it stuffed inside.

But now that I’ve accepted it and let it out to play, it’s its own living and breathing beast I have to keep restrained.

I can’t help but feel more drawn to that side of him.

Does that part of him match mine? Or is his beast more of a light grey, compared to my pitch-black one?

I grab the original scream disguise off the wall, slipping it over my face, and snapping a selfie.

Even through the mesh of the eye holes I think I look hot.

Would Ghost think so too? I send the picture to him, adding on the text ‘ Wanna play?’ He may still be engaged in that meeting but he’ll see the picture eventually.

My gaze trails over the other masks: Myers, Leatherface, cartoon characters, and werewolves.

They’re all so generic and boring, nothing I want to wear.

I stroll the aisles, rounding another corner, and coming face to face with a different mask.

It steals my breath, it’s damn near perfect.

A beautifully done porcelain doll face, flawless at first glance.

It’s not until you look closer that you see all the micro fractures, the fine line cracks in her near perfect facade.

One wrong move and the mask could shatter into a million tiny pieces.

It’s breaking, slowly splitting apart, barely holding together. Just like me.

Entranced by how it makes me feel, I pull off the ghost mask and slip on the other one.

There’s a mirror to my left so I turn and observe my reflection.

The sight hitches my breath, a new feeling churning in my gut.

If this is how Nox feels wearing a mask, I get it.

There’s something dark, delicious, and ominous about obscuring who I really am to the world.

Thinking of all the shit Ghost got away with because I didn’t have a face or name to put on the stalker in my yard.

I can do whatever I want and not be caught .

I could kill again.

My phone vibrates against my leg, “What’s your favourite scary movie?” r asping through the small store. A thrill shoots down my spine as I answer.

“Hello.”

“So, you want to hunt me this time, baby?”