The room spins, my ears ringing as I attempt to get out from underneath him. Each of his heavy breaths against my cheek reeks of alcohol and the sour smell of poor hygiene. “You,” he growls through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on my shirt. “I’m going to give it what it fucking wants so I can be done with this.”
I wedge my arms between us, pushing him over. He rolls away, crashing into the TV trays and tipping them, and everything on top, onto the floor. I find my footing, scrambling to my feet before heading towards the front door. “You’ve fucking lost it, Pops. There’s nothin’ out there.”
Exhaustion weighs on me from putting up with his bullshit my entire life. I came back here trying to close this chapter of my life, not start a whole fucking new one. I shouldn’t behere, in this house, already tarnishing my fresh start with Jace. She pleaded with me not to leave, telling me some doors shut without us having to close them. I can still hear the way her voice cracked in desperation before I stormed out of our apartment. I’d give anything to be back there now, far away from this. I look at my pop; my regret and guilt stare back at me. He’s a mirror, showing me everything that’s slowly rotting away inside me too.
“When Ezra died,” my father mumbles, a mixture of fear and disgust in his voice, “that’s what spoiled it. We couldn’t give it what it wanted no more. Not without him, but maybe I’ve been tryin’ the wrong thing.”
His words are incoherent, puzzle missing pieces that slowly fill in as I recall our time in Devil’s Nest. Ezra and Elias Gibson were running a cult, unspoken but not a secret. Almost every man in town was part of it, in one way or another—even Jace’s dad. Our mamas kept us shielded as much as they could, but then, my mama was gone. I tried not to take notice of what my pop and uncle were up to, spending as much time as I could far from them and with Jace instead.
Rumors spread like wildfire around town, sure, and there were too many strange coincidences. People, mostly women and children, went missing, and I’d wonder why the faces on the flyers looked so familiar. Sometimes, I still see their eyes in my nightmares before a tide of red carries them away. Remaining ignorant was easier, but the guilt from turning a blind eye to it haunts me still.
“It’s gotta be you or Ezra’s little bitch,” he snarls, rocking to his knees and attempting to stand. He sways on his feet, his body threatening to fall right back to the floor. What he says makes no sense. As kids, they kept me and Mattie apart, except on a few strange occasions. I’m not sure where he’s going with this, because if there’s a connection between us, aside frombeing cousins, it’s lost on me. If she was important to him somehow, he still abandoned her all the same when we moved here.
Pop’s eyes narrow into slits, like he’s searching to find some kind of proof for his theory. I wait for him to elaborate on what my cousin or I could mean to some mysterious monster out in the woods, but he continues to stare at me in silence. The only noise in the room is his heavy, raspy breathing as he wheezes between each gasp of air. Unease about where this outburst is leading creeps over me. Goosebumps prickle my skin as if there’s a draft in the stuffy room.
I scan the room, evaluating my options for escape. The front door is closer, a wiser choice than retreating to my room. It’s freezing outside, but I would rather chance it out there than remain here. Jace’s parent’s house isn’t far, and I’m sure they’d let me stay for a night. I doubt I’d have time to start the car before he tries to climb in, but I can come back for it in the morning.
“I’ll be back when you’re sober, old man,” I shout over my shoulder, sprinting towards the door. My hand grips the doorknob, the cool metal slipping beneath my slick palm before giving way. The door inches open, creaking loudly. Winter air rushes in, chilling my flushed skin. As I step over the threshold, I hear the click of his revolver. I’ve never truly feared him before, but the sound freezes me with terror. “Don’t do this.”
“Funny,” he chuckles, “your ma said the exact same thing.” There’s no time to react before my ears ring, and pain radiates through me. I know my body is collapsing to the floor, but something snaps inside me, leaving me disconnected from it. There must have been a gunshot, but I didn’t hear it. In fact, I can’t hear anything. My father stands over me, a single tear rolling down his rage-filled face. He’s mouthing something, butthere’s no sound. There’s only silence as my pain fades into nothingness.
My eyes refocus, the world solidifying around me. I look around, half-expecting to still be on the living room floor. I shake my head, ridding myself of the images from that night. The bastard actually shot me. I shouldn’t be surprised, but the scene still cuts me to my core now as much as it did when it happened.
The shadow of a figure moves past the front window, shifting my attention away from thoughts of my demise back to the person who caused it. After watching him these past couple of years, I should have known better. The signs were all there. Bitterness still festers inside me like poison, watching him live out his life after cutting mine short. I can’t undo it, can’t go back in time and stay safe at home with Jace instead, so I’ve made it my sole mission in this afterlife to torment him until he joins me.
My old man’s face appears in the window, drained of any expression except exhaustion. His washed out face is further emphasized by the dark circles under his eyes. The longer I stare, the angrier I become. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be with Jace.
Jace. Jace is back.
She’s just on the other side of these woods, and I’m still wasting my time here. She pulls on an invisible thread attached to my heart, in death just as she did in life, forever tied together. I never thought I’d get the chance to see her again, her name living on my lips as only the whisper of a memory. Our imaginary reunion comes to the forefront of my mind as I picture the way relief washes over her when she sees me again. Her face, wet with tears, hollows as she bites her cheeks. Her lip quivers as she processes her emotions, sniffling and holding back the sobs aching for release inside her chest. A fuzziness, as close as I can get to warmth, spreads through my spectral formas I recall her lying there, spread out across the bed, waiting for me.
It’s morning now, the rising sun painting the blue sky with light yellow and rays of orange. I wonder if she’s awake yet, or if she’s still a pool of beautiful melancholy between her sheets. Before I overthink it, I head toward the Landry property. I need to see her again, to know she’s made it through the night—and maybe, she needs to see me too.
9
CYRUS
Traveling works differently when you’re dead. It’s hard to explain, but sometimes, I start walking somewhere and then kind of just end up there. Maybe time warps around me, or I just materialize where I’m trying to go. If it’s the latter, it would be nice to make it happen when I’m being chased around the damn woods by a fucking monster. Instead, I’m stuck in some sort of cosmic joke where I’m constantly running for my life—even in death. There should be a handbook on the rules and limitations of being a ghost. I didn’t get a guide to life, though, so why should I expect one now?
Since Jace returned to my world, the novelty of spending my days making my pop miserable seems superficial. Thoughts of her and a future we’ll never have haunt the recesses of my mind. An endless loop of outcomes plays in my head, thinking about what could have been if I had just stayed with her that night. Before Jace, I never had any serious girlfriends. I kept everyone at an arm’s distance, never allowing them access to the real me. Mostly to protect them, but also to protect myself. There was enough pain in my life without dragging someone else into it. It would only end up twisting the knife deeper when they got fed up and left. Not Jace, though—she naturally saw through themask I put on to get through each day. She knew the feeling of hiding the pain away from the world, seeking solace beneath the same shroud of heartache used to escape connection from other people.
So of course, I went and fucked it up. Deep down, I panicked at the idea of sharing something real with her. I needed to go home, clear my head, and cut the last cord of my father’s hold on my life. Maybe she’d realize I was holding her back, and my absence would give her the chance she needed to cut ties with her past too—a chance she’d never get while still with me. Then, I died, never getting a final moment to explain or say goodbye.
Shame tangles my gut into knots. The last two years, I’ve only considered how my death impacted me, not what might have happened to her. In my mind, she had a chance to escape her past—all of it. She gained her freedom to live without worrying about dragging me along with her. I assumed she’d be better off without me, never thinking of the void I may have left.
The woods fade around me. I appear in the snow-dusted field just in time to see Jace dart into an old metal shed. I inch closer, hiding behind the closest tree and waiting for her to reemerge. After several minutes, she awkwardly steps out, fumbling with a cardboard box between her arms. Her fingers are splayed around the bottom, digging into the sides with her nails, as though the contents are about to break free. The box looks like no one’s touched it in years. Each side is coated in dust, water staining the bottom. I step forward, wanting to help her. My ma raised me right, after all, but I stop myself.You’re a fucking ghost remember?She might not be able to even see me. If she can, I doubt suddenly appearing behind her after all this time would work out in my favor. At least I’d find out if ghosts can be slapped.
Jace nervously looks around like she’s holding a box of secrets. The sun makes her skin glisten with perspiration. Beadsof sweat, tinted teal with her hair dye, slide down her temples. She sucks her bottom lip, cheeks hollowing and nostrils flaring as she takes heavy breaths through her nose. The familiarity of her features makes my core tighten, remembering the way she used to bite her lip as she looked up at me from her knees. I love the way her pulse flutters in the dip at the base of her throat. I long to rub my thumb over it, feeling her heartbeat beneath my touch.
Details from our life together consumes my logic with a hungry frustration as I realize I may never have her again. I should have given her more attention while I was alive. Only a fool wouldn’t hold on to what we had.Dammit, Cyrus, only you would find something to live for after you’re dead.
Her wide eyes scan the empty yard again, searching for something—or someone. I follow her gaze, but it’s still only us out here. She shifts unsteadily under the weight of the box, adjusting her grip and taking careful steps towards the house. The winter breeze whips faded tufts of teal hair in front of her face, and her cheeks puff out adorably as she unsuccessfully tries to blow them away. She looks around one final time, like a nervous animal waiting to be pounced upon by a predator. Her mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she lets out little puffs of air, lugging herself and her prize up the back stairs into the house. Hopefully, whatever is inside that box is worth the immense effort she’s taking to keep it a secret.
I follow her inside, close enough to slip through the door before it slams shut. The loud bang makes her jump, and she almost drops the box. She steadies herself, leaning against the wall for a moment. I take the opportunity to brush against her, passing close to her side. A shudder rolls through her body as it senses my presence, the hair on her neck raising. Growing bolder, I reach out to run a fingertip along her spine. She gasps, color draining from her face as she bolts across the emptykitchen. I chuckle to myself, remembering how easily spooked she is, and then continue to follow her.
Jace turns sharply down the hall towards her room, the same one I used to sneak into each night before she moved to the city. I can still navigate to it with my eyes closed if I had to. The room hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. Her essence still coats every inch of it. I wonder if it still smells like her, like strawberry shampoo and wildflowers in the spring. It’s exceptionally cruel to remember such a thing and not be able to experience it.
On the far side of the room, the closet door stands open. I slink past her to hide inside, desperate to keep observing her. Now that I’ve found her again, I won’t make the same mistake of letting her go so easily. Concealed by darkness and a pile of disorganized clothes, I watch her shut the door with one foot. Her movements are awkward, taking extreme care not to make any noise. In the center of the room, she crouches and lets the mass of cardboard slide from her arms onto the floor. Her face finally relaxes as she crumples to her knees beside it. The anxious energy surrounding her transforms into wary intrigue, but she doesn’t open it right away. Instead, she continues to stare like she’s looking through it—always a deer in headlights. Her arms tremble, reaching for the cardboard flaps separating her from the mystery inside.
