Broken: A Paranormal Romance

A letter came by registered mail.

It was from my mother.

Had she not been dead for three months, it might have seemed less odd.

The return address was care of the lawyer she had chosen to settle her affairs, but there was no mistaking the handwriting. The circular perfection of the “o” in Joan Gregory was unmistakable.

I signed for the letter and thanked the courier, sending him on his way even though he lingered in the doorway. I don’t know if he was looking for a tip or waiting for me to play with his, but either way it wasn’t happening. I closed the door, perhaps a little too eagerly, and jiggled the envelope. Something slid around inside.

It wasn’t like my mother to send something so late. The woman had conducted her affairs like she had everything else in life— calculated, efficient. I wasn’t sure what she could be sending so long after her passing. More than likely it had gotten lost in the lawyer’s office, and they’d just remembered to send it now.

I plunked myself on the futon. The frame moaned a little —its time with me as a university student had not been kind.

As I hacked open the envelope a key dropped to the parquet floor. A crisp letter awaited me, its message blunt.

Dear Katherine,

The key is to open a safety deposit box. The branch address and contact information is attached as well as the necessary legal papers granting you access. You will want to open it before your twenty-fourth birthday.

Sincerely,

Joan Gregory

I tried not to roll my eyes at the fact she had formally signed the letter instead of the usual, ‘Your Mother’.

A sigh escaped my lips. My twenty-fourth birthday was three days away. So it seemed her timing was impeccable.

I sat for a moment, looking over the letter. Dancing around the back of my mind was the thought that this might be karma. Not the good kind either.

The woman had left me nothing. Everything had been bequeathed to my brother, Geoffrey, with the exception of some shack in England. And that was only left to me because it was always handed down to the eldest child.

I wish I could say that Geoff had shared some of his inheritance with me, but he’d kept it all. My mother had managed to successfully drive a wedge between my brother and me growing up— to the point that we rarely spoke now.

I didn’t mourn her passing.

I suppose that’s where the karma was coming back to bite me.

I lay back on the sofa, stuffing a ratty throw pillow under my head.

What the hell would she leave me in a box?

As I pondered what plan the woman could have concocted, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I whipped my head in its direction. All I saw was the plant — a wilting ficus. The glance was instinctual — like when you think something’s there; like when you feel something is watching you; or worse, like when you’re convinced you saw a figure in the shadows, but you turn and it’s not there.

Most people can brush it off.

I can’t.

I waited. For what exactly, I wasn’t sure, but I suppose I was expecting to catch sight of something that wasn’t really there. The pause had to have been nothing more than half a second, but it’d felt like ten. At the end of that seemingly prolonged moment I made a beeline for the kitchen. I tore through the cupboards searching for where I’d left my meds.

Beside the cans of ravioli, the empty bottle waited.

Trifluoperazine — it was the only thing that helped.

The notion something was always looking over my shoulder had gotten worse lately. Hallucinations, the doctor had said. They’d become more frequent since my roommate’s brother had brought that blasted plant.

It seemed odd I would blame a plant, but leafy greenness and I were not friends. Plants put me on edge. I was trying to let the thing die while Natalie was on vacation. I figured she’d be a little disappointed when she returned, but so be it. I couldn’t have a plant in here.

I had another look at the ficus.

Fortunately, there was nothing there. At its foot lay three dead leaves. I left them.

At that point the phone rang.

Although it startled me, I was relieved to be jerked back to reality. I shook my head, and tried to settle my nerves with a deep breath. Then I grabbed the cordless.