Psychic Sisters (Radicci Sisters Book 1) - ebook

Sisters. One, an adult artist. One, a nonverbal autistic teen. Both with a psychic ability. Both that trouble keeps following. 

Life is different now for Miki Radicci. With her long lost sister Prudence living with her, she’s determined to create a stable life. But the world is far from stable. Especially when Miki psychically experiences a person’s death and Prudence accesses computers with her brain.

Whether they are suffering bizarre visions of pink-eyed albinos of another dimension, saving a neighbor from sexual predators, finding a body on vacation, or getting carjacked, nothing will test the sister’s new bond more than a catastrophic event that strikes New York and brings their nightmares to life.

 With its fast-paced plot, complex characters, and supernatural elements, this book will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very end. Buy now and join the other readers hooked on this intense and thrilling series.

"Have you ever had an author that no matter what they write you just can't wait to devour it? I have had only a handful of authors that do it for me. M.E. is one of those authors." - Fallen Over Books.

"Psychic Sisters can be read comfortably as a stand alone book but be warned – you will be compelled to grab the next one, and probably the previous series too." - Gloria McNeely, book reviewer.

Into the White

I do not know where I am. Sort of. I am at home. My new home. Mikis condo. I grunt and scream and try to say the words in my head but they will never come out. At least not that way. I cannot speak words. Only write them. So instead I pound the couch. I pound my head. I stomp the floor. I feel my face flush red. Tears run down my cheeks. All these thoughts speed through my brain. All these sensations. But most of all anger.

Please calm down Miki says. I can hear the fear in her voice. Scared of me or what she might do.

I cannot calm down. She does not understand that I have no control right now. I go through control all day. I hide. I mask. Try to pass myself off as normal and neurotypical so I do not have to suffer the annoyance and sympathy in peoples voices and faces.

Maybe this is a way for me to finally let loose and show Miki how I am. Who I am. She will hate me for it. She appears sad and worried. She must be feeling pain. My explosion is hurting her even though I am not touching her. But does she think I am having fun. Does she think I want to do this. That I want attention and love. I hope not. It is not about that at all.

I do not break her paintings or the television or the furniture or the wall. I use what little control I have to harm myself. No. I am not doing it on purpose. It just feels right like there is nothing else in the world to do. I pound my head as if to get the computer right again. Is that not what you are supposed to do when something is broken. You hit it over and over. Maybe your hand is not hard enough and you need a door or wall or rock.

And just like that it stops.

I am on the floor. Legs flat and out. Hunched. Exhausted.

Miki stands a few feet away. Still. Staring. I am not looking at her face but I do not sense any anger from her. She probably feels sorry for me. Sad for me. Maybe sad for herself. I am quite the disappointment. She went through all that trouble to find me and to save me and this is how I am. A voiceless flappy hand girl who rocks and does not act like normal girls. Mistaken as stupid by strangers. Yes. She has to be disappointed in me and her choices.

She moves closer and kneels at my side. Her hand touches my back. I flinch. It feels heavy. Abrasive even though she has soft skin and my t shirt is between our skins. She pulls it off and says Sorry.

Miki stands and walks away.

I wish I could pinpoint the one thing that sets off a meltdown. But it is never one. It is always a group of things. Masking to the world. The harshness of sounds collected. Memories of what people said or did to me years ago or even today. Expressions. Tones. The daily feeling of alienation.

A sob overwhelms me. Exhaustion. I cry into my hands and rock back and forth and cross my legs.

I sense Miki kneeling next to me again. Here she says. She holds a glass of almond milk in my favorite Hello Kitty tumbler. I take it from her and wrap my lips around the straw. The sweet creaminess goes down and the chill calms me. Like ice on a swelling. Yes. That is me. A swelling. A wound under the skin that can not pop.

I love you Miki says. Its okay.

I nod and drink. I love her too but I am unable to say it now.

Miki sits her butt down and crosses her legs.

I am not sure how long we stay there but it feels like a while. I take comfort in that she does not mind doing it.

**

Prudence finally sleeps in bed, maybe for a while. I hope tonight she sleeps until her alarm goes off for school. She needs the rest. Sometimes she doesn’t sleep the night. She wakes me up too early in the morning with her puttering around in the condo. Never on purpose. She tries to be quiet but she also has a bad sense of volume. She might bang a chair or blurt out a loud laugh. But for now, due to her light snoring I heard while laying behind her in the bed, she’s asleep.

I drop on the couch and into the silence. Nothing to clean up tonight after her meltdown. No broken furniture or holes in the plaster walls. Mostly she hit her head with her hands. Fuck, did it kill me to see her do that. It wasn’t a shock. I’ve seen her meltdown before. One time we were at the mall at 33rd Street and she, I guess, couldn’t take it anymore. Right there in front of the GAP she turned furious and pounded her head and paced around. People moved out of her way, scared, probably thinking she was on drugs. Some people flashed me expressions of embarrassment or sympathy. Some even threw shade as if I wasn’t controlling my child. They probably thought she was another thirteen year old having a tantrum.

They have no idea. Meltdowns and tantrums are two different things, from what I read and experienced. Prudence wasn’t demanding something. She was expressing something. With the sounds and lights and crowds and me talking, she later told me. The next day I got her a pair of noise-canceling Beats she can wear. And she has. Sunglasses too when we’re inside with fake lighting. Sunlight doesn’t seem to bother her from what she tells me.

I’m so exhausted. I knew taking in my sister would be a big change. A big challenge. I do love her. She’s so funny and sweet and helpful and independent. But she is also sensitive to the point where she can not take the world. I feel for her. The world does suck. This city sucks. I want to help her, make things easy for her. But I guess no matter what I do, I can’t control everything, as was the case tonight.

As far as I know her day went fine. She ate most of her dinner. Said school was okay. She did all her homework on her own without me to push her. We watched Mr. Robot before bed and then…

Wait. I did ask her if she wanted to brush her teeth now or later. Then she melted. Could that have been it? I try not to tell her what to do. Always phrase my demands into questions so she feels like she has control of when she wants to do things. But maybe she saw through it. She saw and heard the demand in my questions. Questions disguised as demands that I bombard her with all day from morning until night.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I feel like an ass. Even after reading all the books and talking to her neurologist I still don’t feel ready. Sometimes they’re right with their explanation of her but wrong on how I should handle her. It feels like riding a bike after a bunch of years and falling flat on your ass. Over and over again.

Yawning, I tilt onto my side and curl up into a fetal position. I mentally chastise myself for a while until I fall into a deep sleep.