Echoes (Dance With My Demons, #2)

by Steph Macca

What an unhinged good fucking reader you are. I knew you'd be gagging for the monsters under the bed… Begging them to drag you down to hell and rearrange your insides. Welcome home.

I can't help but wonder what my viewers think of me too. I feel like a circus animal, chained and put out for show. Come one, come all. Hear the echoes of my hauntings.

I'll paint the hallways red and string Christmas lights up made of intestines."

If anyone lays a single finger on her, bruising her perfect skin, I'll soak them in gasoline and make a bonfire.

My Circus of the Dead. That's what we are here—dead. Dead to society, dead inside. And sometimes, like Hallman, actually dead. I'm their fucking leader. And the best thing about us? You can't fight death. It's inevitable.

"You'd kill for Damon," I point out confidently. He nods. "Yes, but that's because of the bigger picture. I'd kill just to make you smile."

"You're possessive too," I shoot back. "Leaving fingers on my bed." He shrugs. "I gave you a flower. Girls like that shit." "Oh, that's the part you are focusing on," I scold playfully. "Here's the finger of your enemy… it's in a rose though." "I'm nothing if not unique,"