Synopsis:

Sometimes the ghosts from your past…are real. Moira Flynn is arrested for attacking a door-to-door solicitor with a knife. She claims a voice told her the man was intent on assaulting her. The trouble is, she was the only one that heard that voice. Moira strikes a plea bargain and is sent to a psychiatric hospital for voluntary treatment. Dr. Richard Cassano is hesitant to treat her as schizophrenic, as she does not show the standard symptoms. As their sessions progress, Moira confesses there are two voices—and they aren’t voices in her head, but the voices of ghosts. Are they imaginary? Or are they actual spirits, attached to her for reasons of their own? As Moira’s doctor uncovers more of her past, he begins to realize that her ghosts are real. And one of them is determined to drag Moira into the afterlife with him.

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Excerpt:

They got their food and sat at one of the dining room tables in the corner. Moira pretended not to notice a couple of raised eyebrows from the other patients. “How long have you been able to see them?” “Who?” “Your ghosts.” “For a while,” Moira replied vaguely. Adam picked up his dinner roll and took a large bite. “My guess is longer than just ‘a while.’” Moira’s attention was captured again by his green eye, so sharply contrasting his brown one. He was almost too intense to look at. Almost. “How did you get the scratches?” His gaze settled on her cheek. “One of the other patients started a fight,” she said, covering her cheek with her hand. “I guess she doesn’t like me.” “What’s not to like? You seem okay to me.” Oddly, his statement made her stomach do a flip-flop. “Thanks.” “You know how some people are, quick to judge.” He dropped his fork and bent to retrieve it. Moira pictured herself reaching over and brushing back the lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. Jack and Isabella were strangely silent. Isabella was probably just trying to figure out what childish thing she could say, but Jack…she knew that Jack was sizing Adam up; he did it with every man she came into contact with. And she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her noticing how handsome Adam was either. “I’m sure they upped her meds,” Adam said as he tossed the fork onto the table again. “This place sucks. It won’t do a damn thing but make you spill your guts, drive you crazy or turn you into a zombie. Last pills they sent me home with made me feel like my skull was being split with a meat cleaver.” “So you stopped taking them?” “Yep.” “How did you end up back here?” “My brother called the cops. Lying asshole, I should be used to it by now,” Adam muttered. “I was staying with him until I got my shit together, but he walked in on me as I was flushing my pill down the toilet and freaked out.” A look of distress crossed his face. “Whatever, I’ll be out soon enough.” He finished his roll and started on an apple. “What did your doctor put you on? Who is your doctor anyways?” “Um, he hasn’t put me on anything yet. I see Dr. Cassano.” “Ahh, Dr. Cassano.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hear the nurses talking about him all the time.” “He’s nice enough.” “I see Dr. Leo. He’s an asshole.” He spit out the bite of his apple and without getting up, tossed the rest of it into the garbage, basketball style. “Have you spoken to your ghosts about leaving?” “I’ve …tried.” “They won’t?” “No.” “You want me to ask them for you?” “Seriously?” She stayed an initial surge of hopefulness and reminded herself that Adam was in here because he was crazy. Not like her at all. “I can try.” He settled back and stared right at Isabella. That’s a fluke, she thought. He just picked an empty spot next to me. “You need to go,” Adam said simply. “Moira doesn’t want you around her.” He waited a beat. “Wow, she’s hostel. Kids can be such brats. I’ll try your other one.” He looked right at where Jack stood. The other empty spot next to me, she reminded herself. “Leave. Your time is done, tall guy. You have no business being here anymore.” She felt Jack’s presence crackle with anger. “He’s even more hostel than she is,” Adam said. “Sucks for you.” Moira felt her hopes deflate. Well, it’s not as if he can really see them, she thought. “Thanks anyways.” He aimed his plastic cup towards the trash and tossed it. It missed and rolled towards the kitchen door. “Damn. No points for me.” The cook leaned out the kitchen door and waved his ladle at them. “Stop tossing your garbage everywhere, you’re getting milk on the floor. Somebody’s got to mop that up.” “I hate that a culinary genius like you has to do that,” Adam called back with a straight face. “Smart ass,” the cook replied. “You lucky I don’t spit in your food.” Adam held his hands up in mock surrender. “I know you say that with love, Nathan.” He picked up his tray. “See you around.” Moira watched him swagger away. It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t mentioned Isabella was a child or said anything about Jack. Lucky guess.

About The Author:

Clarissa Johal is the author of paranormal novels, THE ISLAND, VOICES, STRUCK, and BETWEEN. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing, taking pictures of gargoyles, or swinging from a trapeze. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters, and every stray animal that darkens their doorstep. *Member of the Horror Writers Association