Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

GRACE

There is an enormous difference between talking to the dead... and being assaulted by them. That was the first time someone, or something, had reached out and grabbed me like that in public. I had been dealing with spirits my whole life, so I should have been used to their presence, but what happened shook me to my core. I'd never seen an entity exhibit such strong physical strength before.

To make things worse, I recognized the spirit, which meant I was likely to see him again. And I didn't much care for a repeat of what just happened.

The man who crouched over me on my bed - begging, pleading for me to find her, to help him - had launched himself at me. I'd had maybe a fifteen-second warning before he grabbed me and bloodied my nose on a locker. Then, just as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone.

Just like that, I was lying in the hallway with my peers laughing and pointing at my pain. After the incident in the gym, it was a wonder someone hadn't shown up to have me committed.

"Give it time," I said to myself.

It was bound to happen. No one understood and no one took the time to ask. In their eyes, I was a freak. I wasn't worth worrying over. And they were right.

Something was wrong with me. For as long as I could remember, it had been there. One of my foster mothers, a woman who was kind but also terrified of what I held inside me, had told me that she believed I was a medium. She said I had one foot in this world, and the other in the next- that I was straddling the planes of existence. And because of that and her overabundant faith, she couldn't have me living under her roof.

That was only one of twelve foster homes I'd lived in. It was also my favorite. Since then, the homes just grew worse and worse until I reasoned that living in a tent in the woods would be better. Facing off against wolves, bears, and a plethora of rodents sounded better than dealing with my foster parents and the other kids they were leeching money from.

Just thinking about my foster family was enough to darken my mood. And that was saying a lot since my damn nose was still bleeding. Assuming my day couldn't possibly get any worse, I let sadness take the reigns. As if on cue, the sky opened up and within seconds, I was drenched.

Normally, I'd chalk that up to bad luck on my part, but walking home in the rain, crying and bleeding, I turned my face to the sky in thanks and let the rainwater wash away the blood and tears. It wasn't ideal, but at least I wouldn't have to explain my current state. It was a small mercy.

It wasn't until I turned to walk down my driveway that I heard his voice. It spiked up over the pounding of water on asphalt and damn if my heart didn't stutter.

What was it about that boy? Why did I feel such a strong pull whenever he was around? And why in the hell was he trying so hard to win me over?

"Grace!"

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew he probably thought I was a lunatic. I knew he would have questions that he wouldn't like the answers to.

And yet, I still stopped.

MILES

Grace was a beautiful girl, even though she hid her face behind a mask of dark hair. I thought I'd seen the extent of her beauty, but I was wrong. So wrong.

Soaking wet, she was beyond beautiful. As she turned and wiped at her eyes, I slowed my pace and took her in. Her baggy clothes clung to her petite, yet curvy frame. With her wet hair shoved out of her face, her high cheekbones and warm eyes stood out for me to see. And her nose and lips, although they were somewhat swollen, were dainty and feminine.