Page 11 of Come Out, Come Out

It’s fine; I don’t want them around. People only know how to move and shift pain throughout the world. You alleviate theirs and it rests heavily on your shoulders. They take on yours, and the burden breeds resentment. It’s an endless cycle that’s frankly too much to bear for someone as unwell as I am.

To be fair, I did try living with roommates. It was fine,for them. For me, it was a constant hell that required way too much energy—energy I didn’t have. While most women would probably be horrified if their roommates all decided to jump ship on their lease because they were convinced the house was haunted; for me, it was an answered prayer.

Besides, I hadn’t ever witnessed anything scary. Did some of my things end up in different places than where I thought I’d left them? Sure. But nothing sinister, nothing concerning. The others claimed they’d been woken in the middle of the night to feeling a heavy weight shifting in their bed, breathing in their ears while they were standing in the mirror, and about a dozen other stories of creepy things they’d experienced.

It’s not that I don’t believe them, I do. I was just never subjected to the same treatment. Whatever it is, it hasn’t given me a reason to fear it. Is it fucked up that I find it kind of comforting that maybe I’m not completely alone after all? I shiver at the thought, my eyes scan around the room and my ears strain to hear anything out of the ordinary. I wait, but the seconds tick by without disturbance.

I laugh at myself. It’s silly really, to think that all of a sudden it’s just going to be around because I’m thinking about it. I shake my head as I slide under the covers. As soon as I pick up my e-reader, thoughts of my potentially haunted house are quickly overrun by those of the sapphic vampire queen and her new bride. God, I love some good smut. It’s definitely one of my healthier methods of escape, so I revel in it.

I only make it a few pages before the need begins to build between my legs and at the tips of my nipples. My imagination replaces the bride in question with me.

The beautiful vampire’s sharp nails dig into my hips as she bends me forward and traces her tongue between my cheeks and eats my ass. To my dismay, when she turns me over on my back to lick my pussy, she’s replaced by my mysterious stranger. His lean frame stands over me, palms holding my knees apart and his possessive blue-gray eyes fixated on me.

I sigh. Even in my fantasies, I can’t forget about him.

Instead of fighting it, I let him pick up where she left off. His hand clenches around my throat, pinning me to the bed before sinking his cock deep inside me.I’m rough as I plunge my fingers in and out of my pussy, trying to mimic the feeling. As I allow myself to delve deeper into the fantasy, it’s almost enough. I pinch my nipples and imagine that it’s his strong fingers inflicting the delectable pain. I clench the side of my throat, the prick of my nails adding a sharpness to the steady ache of it. With each thrust of my fingers, I’m pushed closer and closer to the edge of my impending orgasm. Seconds later, it all comes crashing down as my bathroom door flies open, effectively killing the mood by scaring the shit out of me.

I jerk upright and stare into the darkness. My muscles spasm and jump at war with the need to move and the urge to stay right where I am. My legs are no longer shaking from pleasure but from adrenaline and the distinct awareness of eyes on me. The hair at the back of my neck prickles ominously.

It would be really fucking unfair if I’m murdered or possessed, or whatever, without getting to come. They couldn’t have at least waited?

Without tearing my eyes from the open door, I reach over and grab the solid candle holder from my bedside table. I slide my panties back into place and slowly get off the bed, jumping when the frame makes a creaking sound.

Just get it over with.I bully myself as I take reluctant steps forward with the candle holder raised and ready to swing like a bat. When I reach the end of my bed, Binx is sitting there with his head tilted and eyes wide—the picture of innocence. He lets out a meow and walks into the bathroom fearlessly. With a laugh of relief, I flick on the light and follow him in.

Nothing to see here. The cat must have pushed the cracked door open.Little cockblocker. Or is it fingerblocker? Whatever.It might have been imaginary, but still. I glare at him as he prances away, jumps on the bed, and curls up in the warm spot I left behind.

When I finally crawl back into bed next to him after brushing my teeth, the reality of my loneliness presses against me. I pull Binx close and tears spring to my eyes. “I love you, Binxie,” I whisper into his now-soaked fur that I’ve snuggled into.

Cats hate being wet, and yet, he lets me cry into him whenever I need. I know I say I don’t have friends, but I guessheis my best friend. People used to laugh at me when I said animals were my friends, but what’s better than someone who loves you unconditionally?Peoplesay they love you unconditionally, but usually, they don’t. There are limits, unspoken terms and conditions. Binx is the only one in my life who hasn’t looked for the loopholes; he’s the only one who doesn’t run from the ugliness. Instead, he comes to me and offers whatever he can. He’s been the most consistent presence in my life since I graduated college. Animals might be small, and we might not speak the same language, but they have the biggest hearts. If I’m being honest, he’s the biggest thing that keeps me here.

Aiden

September 30th, 2020 – Three Months and Three Weeks Later

Now that I’d had her, it was so much harder to sit idly by and watch her misery fester. I wasn’t egotistical enough to think that I was the cause of the uptick in her self-destructive habits. Although, I’d bet money she still thinks of me—if the increased roughness with which she fucks herself is any indication. I even caught her fingering herself on the stairs once. It seemed like she, too, was wishing we could go back to that night.

The relief, the release, everything I experienced quickly fell through my fingers like fine sand. I’ve become obsessed with trying to find a way back to her, but no matter how much I try to will it into existence, I’m not able to become corporeal again. I never even believed in ghosts or the other side before I died, but the only thing I’ve been able to come up with is that the veil had thinned for a short period, allowing me through. I can’t be sure and honestly, I don’t fucking care, I just want it to happen again. But days turned into weeks, which turned into months without incident. It’s bullshit, but I lost control of my life long ago.

I’m angry and have stewed over how unfair it was that I’d got to touch her, taste her, fuck her, hold her, and then it was just over. I’m forced to idly watch the object of my obsession take on her inner demons alone.

It’s absolute torture as I sit here and watch her from the other side of the room as she cuts thin white lines that disappear one by one up that lightly freckled nose. The worst part is, Skye stares straight through me, utterly unaware of my presence or my pain that is so tangible to me. It’s haunting how this empty stare is such a far cry from the fiery challenge I’d seen in those eyes when she threatened to force me to leave her house.

The absence of that spark gnaws at something deep within me. When she moves on to creating those little knicks in her skin—the ones that won’t do any lasting harm, just take the edge off—it spreads like a toxin that surges through me in a torrent of primal need. She isn’t allowed to harm what’smine.

If I ever get another chance, I’ll teach her that I’m the only one who doles out punishments from now on. I want to take ownership of her pain, become the hand that pushes her under the water when she wants to drown in herself and also when it’s time for her to breathe again.

But for now, I’m suffering right along with her with no reprieve from the misery she’s forcing us both to endure. I helplessly watch as her consciousness finally fades and the sheets stain red with beads of crimson from her ankles resting underneath the covers. I’m always on edge while she sleeps, wondering when the day will finally come when she doesn’t wake up.

October 31st, 2020 - One Month Later

My jealousy mounts until it’s thick in the air around me as I watch Skye put on the tiny black skirt with a lacy bodysuit that shows off every inch of her ample cleavage and thick thighs. If I could suffocate from the toxicity billowing around me, I would. I feel as if I’m about to detonate when her phone dings and she races down the stairs. As her skirt bounces, I catch a glimpse of her bare pussy. She’s not wearing any fucking underwear.

“Hey, there.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet as she opens the door to reveal a man with, wouldn’t you know it, dark hair, blue eyes, and tattoos. She really hasn’t forgotten about me. Hope ignites in me before jealousy snuffs it out as a petite woman with pink hair comes up behind him. She’s fucking me out of her system with notonebuttwopeople? If I wasn’t in shock, my ego might have swelled at the thought.

Watching her suffer was torturous, but witnessing her experience pleasure is the seventh circle of hell. I pace as I watch them undress her. When her tits spring free, the woman immediately starts sucking and playing with them, leading her back to the couch.

I halt my steps as an unexpected hunger grows in my stomach when the man sinks to his knees and flips up her skirt to lap at her pussy. I move to stand behind him, getting a view that’s easy to imagine myself in. Her pretty pink pussy is on display for me as my replacement plunges his tongue inside her and works her clit.

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