Touched: A Horror Romance

They called me nothing.

His daughter said it to her friend through a cracked bedroom door while I stood in the hallway holding towels I'd folded with my own hands. Fat. Pathetic. Desperate. She listed me like a diagnosis. And the worst part wasn't the cruelty. The worst part was that I believed her.

I married Graham eight months ago. Moved into his dead wife's house. Cooked from her recipes. Watered her herbs. Slept next to a man who kept her photograph hidden in his nightstand, face down, cl...