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CHAPTERSIXTEEN
As I watch the life drain from her eyes, a strange feeling settles over me. At first, it barely registers, like a faint whisper in the back of my mind, telling me that something is wrong. But in an instant, it multiplies, intensifying until it’s grating against every bone in my fucking body.
Stop. Stop. STOP!
I release her throat with a curse and quickly back off.
What the fuck was that?
Stevie’s ghost sinks to the ground and gasps for air in between bouts of violent coughs. She’s a talented actress, I’ll give her that. The bright red bruises forming around her neck are a nice touch and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I really did some damage.
“Leave.” I say flatly, keeping my voice cold and detached. I’ve played into her antics too much as it is. Anymore of this talking with a ghost shit and I’ll need to be institutionalized.
She gets to her feet, but instead of walking away like she knows she should, she staggers towards me. “Do you really hate me that much?” She asks, peering up at me with her bloodshot eyes.
I clench my jaw and avert my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, Ez.” She whispers, nodding her head softly as she blinks back the tears welling in her eyes. “It matters to me.”
I snap my head towards her and say the first thing that comes to mind. “I hate what you’ve turned me into. What you’ve turned us all into. You had no fucking right to come into our lives and wreck us the way you did.” The words aren’t just for this phantom, but I still feel them all the same. I hate what she did to us.
“Then finish it.” She insists, reaching for my hand and wrapping it firmly around her throat. “If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you.” She says the words with so much conviction that for a moment, I’m not sure what to do.
If I go through with this, there’s a good chance I’ll lose the only traces of Stevie I have left.Is that something I even want?I’m not sure, but anything is better than continuing to be driven into madness by the one thing I can’t have.
I squeeze her throat tighter, letting my fingers sink deeper into her warm, soft flesh. She closes her eyes, and as her head falls back, a trace of a smile touches her lips.
God, she’s so beautiful. It's sick how badly I still want her, even in this nonexistent form, even when all she’s ever done is fucked with my head. I’m still as addicted to her as I was the first night we met. I thought I could shake this, but I don’t think my craving for her will ever go away.
I take in everything. Her trembling full lips. The influx of emotion on her face. And the feeling of her pulse drumming against my fingertips.
Normally she’s muted, like she's just remnants of a girl I once knew. But my mind is amplifying her to a new level. I can almost taste the sweet vanilla & nectar on her skin.
I fixate on her throat and squeeze a little tighter, feeling the muscles in her neck strain against the pressure. I look up at her face and try to capture everything one last time before she’s gone. Every line, every scar, and every freckle. I hate that I’m going to miss her. I should fucking hate her. But I can’t.
My eyes linger on a scar that starts a centimeter above the hollow of her cheek and goes up, fading just before it approaches the corner of her eye. My body goes cold.
I’ve memorized every mark on this woman's body. Every minute detail, and I can guarantee I've never seen this fucking scar before. I’ve replayed the night she left over and over again in my head, and I’m positive it wasn’t there that night.So where the fuck did it come from?
I release her throat a fraction and as her lungs pull in large gasps of air, the color returns to her face.Everything about her is real, too fucking real.
Her eyes fly open and as she stares at me with a mixture of confusion and shock, the dots finally connect.
No.I think, clenching my jaw as I stare back at her.It can’t be.
In an instant, our connection is severed and I’m pummeled across the hallway by a wall of brute force strength. My back slams into the opposing wall with a loud crack and as I try to right myself, it takes a few seconds for me to catch up to what’s just happened.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cyrus snarls, shoving me back against the wall again as he gets into my face.
She can’t be real.I think numbly as I slowly shake my head.It’s not possible.
Cyrus continues to spew more shit my way, but all of his words fall on deaf ears. I’m concentrating on one thing and one thing only,Stevie.I look up and hold her gaze.
She is real, and I almost fucking killed her.
Tristan notices me staring and, like the overprotective asshole he is, he steps into action. “Don’t f… fucking look at her.” He snaps, moving in front of her to block my view. “Not until you explain what the f… fuck just happened.”
Tension crackles in the air as neither Stevie nor I make a move to speak. I could try to explain myself, but I doubt either of them would believe me.
