It was just me, the ghost, and the House on North Lane.
***
I stood in front of a door that would not open, an unyielding guard sealed at the very end of the upstairs hallway. It was here the shadowed figure led me, yet I could not follow it inside, the House barring me from its secrets.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I asked, fingers tracing over the splintered paint, small specks of dust drifting to the floor.
The Devil's clawed hand caressed my shoulder, the stench of rot gushing from his lips that parted to whisper,There is nothing for you in there.
"How do you know?" I asked, testing the doorknob I knew would not budge.
We are trying to escape this prison,he said, claws digging deeper into my flesh,not explore it.
"You know what?" I freed my shoulder from the Devil's grasp, shoving him backwards. "I don't need to listen to you anymore!"
Don't be stupid, little monster.
"I'm not a monster!"
Your mother's ghost says otherwise.
Rage tore through me, fist raised to strike the Devil. His lips spread into a grin. Wicked delight glistened in his eyes. He wore my face, yet I could hardly recognise myself. Who was I? Who had I become? Who did I want to be?
The Devil wanted me to strike him; to be the monster he believed me to be. I had no intention of proving him right.
"I don't care what you say," I said, lowering my fist. "I don't care what you think. You do not get to decide who I am."
Behind me, the door clicked open, and the Devil vanished. Inside the room, the shadowed figure stood facing a mirror.Themirror—its familiar golden arch outlining the ghost of its reflection. It was not my mother. Nor the Devil. There was one other prisoner inside the House on North Lane.
The figure was tall, dressed in black trousers and a plain black t-shirt, the long sleeves stained with blood. His dark brown hair was an untamed mess atop his head, skin pale, almost luminescent. And his eyes—as blue as a cloudless sky.
Auden.
“You,” I whispered, “you are the ghost haunting the House on North Lane.”
“You,” Auden whispered back, “you are the ghost haunting the House on North Lane.”
I blinked, startled. Auden blinked back.
I raised my hand. Auden followed.
My knees slammed down onto the wooden floorboards, a loud crack echoing along the walls. The ghost knelt in front of me—silent, waiting.
“I don’t…understand.”
“You are the ghost haunting the House on North Lane,” he repeated.
“A ghost? But I’m not dead,” I said. “Are…you?”
Auden shook his head. “I was never born.”
If I hadn't already fallen to my knees, I certainly would have at those words. "What…what are you talking about?"
“I’m not real, Augustus,” Auden said, “I never was.”
"That doesn't make any sense. You’re my brother. We’ve grown up together.”
“Have we?” Auden asked.
