Ghosts of Halloween: Chapter 47

I can tell she’s running on fumes. As Harlow slowly dresses with Jack’s help, and then sips water Caden got for her from downstairs, tremors run through her hands and legs. The strip of my shirt on her shoulder is soaked. Her wound’s bleeding again.

The knife feels heavy in my hand, and I turn it absentmindedly, waiting for her to be ready. But can she, really? Can anyone be ready for death?

Cay and Jack already told me they won’t watch, and that makes me smile grimly. Somehow, I always knew it would fall to me. They daydreamed about sticking their dicks inside her, I fantasized about sticking her through with a knife. I snort quietly, shaking my head at how naïve I was. I thought it would be pleasant. Now, the responsibility weighs so heavy on my shoulders.

Especially since I have no doubt this will never work.

Sure, I told Harlow my secret and promised to help her avenge herself. But that’s not what’s gonna happen. As soon as she drops dead, we’ll dissolve like smoke. We’ll disappear into nothing, completely free. Free, because we’ll be gone.

I don’t believe in hell. Just in the big, black nothing that devours all souls.

And yes, I’d pay any price to keep on existing, even as a ghost. To stay with Caden and with Harlow and Jack, too. But my wishes rarely come true, so I brace for reality to crush us all.

“Come on,” I say, flipping the knife. “It’s time.”

When Harlow turns to me, I head for the door, eager for this to be done. That’s how I deal with unpleasant tasks. I get them out of the way fast.

“Wait.” Jack stops us both. “She has to make the promise. Remember?”

I roll my eyes before I turn back, schooling my face to humor him. This is a waste of time, but Jack is so full of hope, I can’t take it away from him. “Fine. But hurry. We really don’t have much time.”

Less than two hours left until dawn. And we’re done, all our goodbyes spoken. If we keep dragging this out, we’ll lose our resolve, and our chance at freedom will be gone.

“Harlow, you just have to promise to stay with us after death,” Jack tells her seriously, like he truly believes he can cheat fate like this. “So we can all be together.”

She nods and drains her plastic cup of water, taking a deep breath as she puts it away on a windowsill. I huff, finding it oddly endearing that Harlow takes care not to litter even in this trashed old house, right before she’ll die. I know Jack would have just tossed the cup on the floor and crushed it with his boot.

When she turns to him, her drawn face lucid even as her body trembles, I tighten my mouth, refusing to hope this will work. It won’t. I’m just letting them do this to humor Jack.

“I promise to stay with you always, here in this world,” Harlow says quietly. It seems like she prepared a little something, because she doesn’t fumble with the words. “Not even death will do us part.”

“I promise to stay with you, too,” Jack says, and the longing in his eyes makes me so uncomfortable, I look away. I know I’d never look at Harlow like a besotted fool, but still, I’ll do what I can to make my gaze impassive. Give nothing away.

She kisses him lightly on the mouth and smiles, looking into his eyes. Then she turns to Caden.

“I promise to stay with you always, here in this world. Not even death will do us part.”

A light blush creeps onto her cheeks, and Caden gives her a soft smile, one of those he always reserved just for me. But fuck, I can’t begrudge her that. And as he leans in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I release a shaky breath, because fuck. I’m getting desperate enough to hope.

“I’ll always protect you, little bird,” he says, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “Just like I promised then. I promise again.”

Harlow turns to me, and I swallow down the lump in my throat, scowling hard to keep myself from revealing anything. Fuck, this is miserable.

“I promise to stay with you always, here in this world. Not even death will do us part,” she whispers, gently squeezing her fingers over my hand gripping the knife. “Thank you, Silas. For everything.”

“I already made my promise to you,” I say through a tight throat. “Let’s go.”

I don’t look back at Jack, because the desperate hope in his eyes would crush me. And I don’t look at Caden, because knowing that it’s most likely the last time I’ll ever see him would make me bawl like a fucking baby.

We just have to get this over with. Just a bit longer.

Harlow follows me, her bare feet quiet on the stairs. I lead her to the entrance hall, because I don’t want her to rot in this place before she’s discovered. Her body will be displayed front and center, easy to find for anyone who comes into this house.

“Wait here,” I tell her when we’re in the entrance hall, and I walk over to the front door to unlock it. I reach into the lock, my fingers easily sinking into metal and wood, and I release the mechanism. The hinges creak loudly when the lock clicks, and the door swings lightly ajar.

I straighten, my back to her, my body between Harlow and the door.

“Will you try to run, angel?” I ask without looking at her. Because fuck. A part of me wishes she would. I want her to run fast and far away so I don’t have to kill her. Right now, I only have the blood of my rapists on my hands.

“No,” she says, voice sounding strong. “I’m ready. And I’m sorry. I know you… You don’t hate me anymore.”

I snort, shaking my head before I turn around, watching my little angel trying to be brave despite how hard her left hand trembles, clasped nervously around her prosthetic. “No, I don’t.”

I can’t tell exactly what I feel for her. These are things that escape definition, and maybe, if we had more time, they would have crystallized into clear emotions. Respect. Tenderness. Maybe even love.

But we don’t. I’ll kill her before I can love her, and it just makes me want to rage or laugh like a maniac. What a fucking tragedy.

“Thank you for doing this, then,” she says, watching me with those wide eyes that saw so much pain and evil, and still remained so innocent. “I couldn’t… I don’t think I could do it myself now.”

I nod curtly and step over to her. “Turn around,” I say, my voice so soft, as if I’m about to whisper sweet words in her ear.

She gulps, taking my face in with wide eyes, terror warring with determination in their depths. Then slowly, she does as I said. Her dress rustles faintly as she turns, facing in the same direction as me, the front door behind our backs. The whisper of wind slithers its way inside, and I hear a curse somewhere from the street, followed by a bark of drunken laughter.

People coming back from a party, most likely. Completely unaware of what’s about to happen.

I put my hand around Harlow’s shoulders, pressing her close into me. My heart beats so fast, I feel its steady staccato against my ribcage, like it’s trying to break free of this horrible moment. My breath shaky, I breathe in the scent of Harlow’s hair as I press my face into it, slowly raising the knife.

She can’t hold back a sob, though it’s muffled, her mouth desperately closed. She shakes harder and harder as I gently press the edge of the blade to her neck, the muscles in my forearm tightening as I grip the knife hard, getting ready to slice.

“Goodbye, angel,” I whisper.