Samantha Blair struggled against phantom restraints. No, not again.

This wasn’t her room or her bed, and it sure as hell wasn’t her body. Tears welled and trickled slowly from eyes not her own. Then the pain started. Still she couldn’t move. She could only endure. Terror clawed at her soul, while dying nerves screamed.

The attack became a frenzy of stabs and slices, snatching away all thought. Her body jerked and arched in a macabre dance. Black spots blurred her vision, and still the slaughter continued.

Sam screamed. The terror was hers, but the cracked, broken voice was not.

Confusion reigned, as her mind grappled with reality. What was going on?

Understanding crashed in on her. With it came despair and horror.

She’d become a visitor in someone else’s nightmare. Locked inside a horrifying energy warp, she’d linked to this poor woman, whose life dripped away from multiple gashes.

Another psychic vision.

The knife slashed down, impaling the woman’s abdomen, splitting her wide from rib cage to pelvis. Her agonized scream echoed on forever in Sam’s mind. She cringed.

The other woman slipped into unconsciousness. Sam wasn’t offered the same gift. Now the pain was Sam’s alone. The stab wounds and broken bones became Sam’s to experience, even though they weren’t hers.

The woman’s head cocked to one side, her cheek resting on the blood-soaked bedding. From the new vantage point, Sam’s horrified gaze locked on a bloody knife, held high by a man dressed in black from the top of his head down. Only his eyes showed, glowing with feverish delight. She shuddered. Please, dear God, let it end soon.

The attacker’s fury died suddenly. A fine tremor shook his arm, as fatigue set in. “Shit.” He removed his glove and scratched the exposed skin.

In the waning moonlight, from the corner of her eye, Sam caught the metallic glint of a ring on his finger. It mattered. She knew it did. She struggled to imprint the image before the opportunity was lost. Her eyes drifted closed. In the darkness of her mind, the wait for Death was endless.

Sam’s soul wept. Oh, God, she hated this. Why? Why was she here? She couldn’t help the woman. She couldn’t even help herself.

Sam welcomed the next blow—so light, only a minor flinch undulated through the dreadfully damaged body of this woman. Maybe the poor woman had passed on. Sam’s tortured spirit stirred deep within the rolling waves of blackness, struggling for freedom from this nightmare.

With one last surge of energy, the woman opened her eyes and locked on to the killer’s gaze staring back from within the mask. In ever-slowing heartbeats, her—and Sam’s—circle of vision narrowed, until the two soulless orbs blended into one small band, before it blinked out altogether. The silence, when it came, was absolute.

Gratefully Sam relaxed into the woman’s death.

Twenty minutes later, Sam bolted upright in her own bed. Survival instincts screamed at her to run. White agony dropped her in place.

What readers are saying: 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐"Excellently written! I couldn't put it down. Characters are well developed and the story line was intriguing. So much can be discovered about human relationships within this book." - Amazon Reviewer

Exclusive bundle to the Dale Mayer store!

Included in this bundle:

            ✅Tuesday's Child            ✅Hide'n Go Seek            ✅Maddy's Floor            ✅Garden of Sorrow            ✅Knock. Knock...