My eyes close for a moment, as I struggle to breathe.
All of this is too much. Losing Dad never should’ve happened. Mom never should’ve gotten shot. Yet, here we are, one dead parent, the other one on the brink. If Mom doesn’t pull through, none of us will survive it. Fuck, this is a nightmare. Once I manage to snap myself from the little pity-party that’s been happening inside of my head, I take a shower. I don’t know how long I stay underneath the steam of warm water, letting it all fall down my body. It’s only when Blair knocks on the door that I realize the water is now running cold.
“Yes, Butterfly?” I call out, turning the water off.
“I got us some take out. Come eat with me, please.”
Sighing, I respond, “I’ll be there in a few.”
Blair’s footsteps slowly fade away as I dry myself off and toss on the clothes I brought with me, throwing the dirty ones into the washing machine, and turning it on.
The water drips down my neck from the ends of my hair, and when I spot Blair waiting for me at the small dining table, something in me breaks. She’s offering me a soft smile, and I’ve been nothing other than cold and distant toward her.
Yet, there she is, patient and waiting.
“What are we having?”
“It’s just some fried chicken from the place down the street,” she shrugs, pushing the plate toward me. “It’s delicious, though.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I kiss the top of her head and sit.
The two of us eat in silence, and it’s suffocating. Blair’s eyes are darting between the food on her plate and my face every so often, a speck of worry visible in her gaze.
“Hey, Baby?” she asks, hesitantly.
“Yes, Butterfly?”
Blair swallows a piece of chicken, takes a sip of her water, then looks at me while pushing her plate away. She’s gone completely stoic in expression, though I can still see the worry that’s laying just under the surface.
“You massacred an entire prison again,” she says, and there’s no judgement in the tone. “You even left them a message, but why am I finding that out through the news and not you?”
My jaw clenches. “If I had it my way, you never would’ve found out in the first place.”
“Since when are we keeping secrets?”
“Since my father fucking died, Blair. Since the man who promised he’d stay safe and sound is now dead and I can’t even bring myself to go and identify his body. It’s been a week, and I can’t do it. So, this has nothing to do with you. I didn’t kill all those people for you.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “So tell me, why did you do it?”
“To send a message. I’m blood-thirsty, and I have all the means to quench the thirst. This has nothing to do with you, Blair. It’s my way of gaining control over this fucked up situation.”
Blair scoffs. “And how’s that working out for you, Arlo?”
My brows narrow. “Why are we playing twenty-one questions? If you have something you want to say, just say it.”
Blair’s facial expression mirrors mine. “Firstly, you will not speak to me like that. I love you, Arlo. But I will not let you treat me like shit just because you’re grieving.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, preventing a very tasteless, hurtful retort from slipping out. I suck in a sharp breath, realizing the truth behind her words. I hang my head in shame, I never speak to her this way, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she smiles. “Now, talk to me.”
“I can’t do that, Blair. You’ll become scared of me. The Ghost isn’t a nice person.”
“I’m not scared of the Ghost,” she says, looking straight into my eyes. “I’m scared for my baby Arlo. Because while Ghost is just someone you’re shifting the blame onto, he’s still a part of you. You two are not separate beings and whatever you do as the Ghost will inevitably come back to either haunt you, or bite you in the ass.”
“I don’t care,” I chuckle. “Whatever the repercussions are, I made my peace with that ages ago.”
Blair looks unconvinced, but she doesn’t push the issue further. “You need to go and identify his body, though.”
