Message received, loud and fucking clear. Keep your distance or get electrocuted straight into the next realm.
She’s been going out more and more, and each time she walks past me like I don’t exist. Like I never did. I truly feel like a fucking ghost. Unseen. Unheard. Unwanted. Unworthy.
I tried talking to her again, from a distance this time. Thought maybe she’d at least give me a glare at some point. Now she wears headphones every time she leaves the house. The noise-canceling kind. Because that’s what I am to her — fucking cancelled.
I’m losing her every day, over and over again.
I rushed the Jinx job so much that Mindfuck’s head was spinning by the end of it. He barely kept up, muttering about whiplash and how I’d finally gone completely cuckoo. He’s not wrong. I probably have.
But I had to get back fast. Even if I can’t talk to her, even if she won’t see me, I need to be near. I need to know she’s breathing.
It’s all gone to shit. Bones is fucked, too. It’s no contact between him and Temperance and I can see him slipping further into a very dark fucking place. And I can’t help him because I’m being dragged into the same place, right next to him.
Watching her is a different kind of torture. She’s been helping Ria with her shop. Probably because Ria’s been spending more time with Temperance lately.
I’m not allowed inside, of course. Ria made it official with a huge Ghostbusters sign taped to the fucking front door. The little shit even added ‘no ghosts allowed’ under it in glitter pen. Like it’s cute. Like this is a fucking joke.
I tried to ignore it. Pushed the door open and just entered the shop. I almost ended up brawling with Tank.
That sign’s still there. And I’m still here too, standing outside, watching her through the glass.
“You have no chance,” Ria says, voice casual like she’s talking about the weather.
I glance at her. She just stepped out of her cage, Tank right behind her. “Temperance okay?” I ask.
She gives me a small smile. “She will be.”
Then she looks toward the shop window.
“You’re making me sad, Phantom of the Drama. I had so many plans for you. But you’ve been no fun at all. Wouldn’t drink any of the coffee I offered. Refused the muffins. And the cupcakes. The sandwiches, too. Wouldn’t let me near your bike. Blocked me before I could hide sardines in your pockets. Honestly? I’m disappointed.” She pouts like I ruined her birthday.
I exhale through my nose. “I’m not in the mood for games, Ria.”
She turns toward me, watching me like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth the breath she’s about to waste.
“But you were in the mood to play games with Adora,” she says quietly.
“I warned you. Over and over. Your chance is gone.”
Her tone isn’t cruel. It’s calm. Final.
“But you didn’t listen, did you?”
The words slam into me like a crowbar to the ribs.
She doesn’t stop.
“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just telling you the truth. You think it’s her love you lost?” She shakes her head. “You didn’t lose that. You shattered her trust. It’s dead now. Poison. And trust, Spookster… it doesn’t come back. Not for people like her.”
She steps closer. Her voice softens, but the blow hits even harder.
“If she were someone else — someone with a safe childhood, decent parents, some kind of basic emotional foundation — maybe there would’ve been a way back. Maybe.”
A pause.
“But she’s not.”
She leans in, her eyes wide and unblinking.
