The wind rose in violent fury, beating against
the glass doors as if something outside were trying
to force its way in. The strange and delicate music
of a harp vibrated through the room and the sick-
eningly sweet scent of lavender rose from every
corner of the darkness. Amanda trembled and in-
stinctively clung to David. But the grip that held
her had suddenly turned vise-like and fiendish.
Her arms were pinned to her sides, her body
crushed down painfully into the bed.
Amanda tried to scream, but no sound could
be forced through her lips. She tried to call out
David s name, but suddenly she was unable to
breathe. Devilish laughter surrounded her. In the
pitch black darkness and confusion, the glass door
blew open. Crashing against the walls, they splint-
ered into a thousand pieces.
"The third Mrs. Whitcomb..." a hollow voice
cried. "The other two before you, strangled in
their beds... "
Then she heard the shrill, bone-chilling sound
of someone screaming, calling out for help. But
there was none...
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