Sweat pools under my arms. I hesitate before I click it, opening the app. It’s a video of Phantom, showing the world the mural on the roof. The roof ofthis dorm.
My gaze snaps upward.They’re up there right now.
I look back at the video. Phantom’s laughing, but it sounds nothing like them. It’s a sick and twisted sound. Chaotic and sorrowful; like the sound I imagine a soul makes as it’s dragged from this world against its will. The sound of a phantom.
The muscles in my back tense as I open the comments section of the video, which is full of insults and hate. The public doesn’t appear to like the artist behind the ski mask. Screw them. They don’t know Phantom like I do.
Phantom’s work has always pushed boundaries, but thus far, they’ve kept their darker pieces off their social media accounts. Hiding their demons from view, as they would say. So, why are they showing them now?
It’s me, I realize.Our fight. They’re scared too.
I can’t lose you.
They’re doing this because they feel helpless... and alone.
Can I really just walk away, knowing the consequences of my actions could be serious?
I look at the video again, at the hollowness in Phantom’s eyes.
No. I can’t do that either.
Phantom’s life is worth fighting for. Just like mine is. Just like everyone’s is.
I change quickly, and my hand trembles as I reach for the repaired doorknob again. I’m terrified. There’s no use denying it. But I grit my teeth against the fear and imagine Phantom, battling against their illness all alone. That’s no way to live.
My heart gallops as I climb the stairs to the roof. I take them two at a time, not giving myself time to change my mind. Bursting through the rusted door, I race around the roof. It’s empty. Phantom’s already gone.Shit.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Another new video from Phantom. They’re in a large, dark room, blackout curtains drawn across tall windows, and they’re sitting on the floor. I gasp as I notice the floor is stained red.
No! They’ve hurt themself.
I have no other choice. Without a car or a bike or a reliable ride share service in this small town, I’m going to have to run all the way to Phantom’s studio. I rush down the dorm steps and throw myself out onto the sidewalk. Hot breath tears through my lungs as I pump my arms and legs as fast and as hard as I can. I don’t think about the burning in my calves, or the cramp searing my side. All I can do is repeat their name, over and over again in my mind, as gut-wrenching images flash before my mind’s eye. Phantom with a pocket knife. Phantom bleeding out. Phantom cold in a pool of their own blood.
A flash flood of fury allows me to force the mental images away. I refuse to believe it.
When I crash through the heavy door of Phantom’s building twenty minutes later, it’s eerily quiet. And then I realize there’s no one here to help me.
I have to save them. All by myself.
“Phantom,” I scream as I sprint across the grimy lobby and up the staircase. My throat’s already sore and my voice is scratchy. Just as I’m about to fling myself onto the second-floor landing, I hear a crash down the hallway.
“Phantom? Phantom,” I yell as I run down the corridor. I skid to a stop before their studio door and bang against the metal with the back of both fists before I try the handle. It budges. Unlocked.
I barge in, immediately slipping and falling into a pool of liquid on the floor. My stomach heaves as I lift a soiled hand before my face. It’s not blood, I realize after rubbing my fingers and thumb together—far too viscous for that.
It’s paint. Thank God! It’s just paint.
I look around the dark studio until my eyes adjust and land on a heap on the floor, lying in the middle of all this spilled paint. “Phantom?” I ask, quieter and softer this time.
They barely move, opting only to turn their head toward me. Their eyes are bloodshot and their pupils are dilated, so wide the black is blocking out almost all the green and blue.
“Phantom,” I breathe, crawling toward them.
“Maeve?” they ask, their voice just as hoarse as mine, as if they’ve been yelling too.
My eyes well with tears despite myself. I’m still angry and scared and confused. But Phantom’s here and they’re... well, not okay, but they’re alive.
