Page 5 of Come Out, Come Out

Aiden

February 17th, 2020 - One Month Later

Over the last . . . fuck who knows how long, I’ve been trying my best to track each sunrise, but even that proves difficult at times. My existence just seems to stretch on and on, no matter how much I wish it would end. But then, the cleaning crew shows up and life—or death, I guess—becomes infinitely more interesting again.

They do a full scrub-down of the long-empty house. I follow them from room to room with the rapt attention of someone watching the best movie they’d ever seen—my boredom has reached painfully unprecedented levels, so it’s truly entertaining. They removed the evidence of neglect and the flecks of blood that had dried in the kitchen’s grout. The rogue stains on the wood floors of the entryway and bedroom were too far gone, but nobody but me would know what they were from as small and blackened as they were after all the time that’s passed. When they finish, lemon and bleach linger in the air. It’s a welcome change from dank moisture and dust.

What feels like a few days later, the owner of the property—an average-looking man with a shaved head and nasally voice—and four women enter. He’s ready to rent it out again. Two of the women—Sarah and Elle—have that classic California girl look: blond and thin. However the other two are more my type. The one named Ava has shaggy plum hair that brushes her shoulders and thick legs that are a testament to the resilient stitching on the ripped black pants she wears. The other, Skye, has a similar build to the Ava, who’s attractive enough, but it’s Skye who utterly captivates me. I’m immediately sucked in by her sad, disinterested brown eyes framed by thick cat eyeliner and short, jet-black bangs. Mid-length hair falls across her chest where the Nirvana logo is prominently displayed.Would you look at that… We already have something in common.I smirk shamelessly as I continue my perusal of her delicious body down to the black and white platform sneakers on her feet. I can’t help but become momentarily fixated on how her voluptuous ass peeks out from her denim, high-waisted shorts and fishnets. I’m grateful she can’t see me because that means I don’t have to worry about looking like a complete ass drooling over her. Everything about Skye draws me forward as they walk through the viewing. The tension in her shoulders and the flexing of her hands at her sides makes me wonder whether she can feel me there, always just a few steps behind her.

Everything about her has me salivating, from the knowledge that we share a favorite band to the confident, ‘I don’t give a shit about anything’ attitude. But what makes her exactly what I need is the heavy melancholy that clings to her. Its tentacles reach for me, and I let them wind their way around my limbs and sink their tips into my skin. As they spear into me, it sparks something I’ve never felt before, a powerful and raw need for another person. I feel her inside of me down to the very pit of my soul. It shivers, aching with the need for more of her. What I’ve been allowed is far too small of a taste. I want to drink her sorrow until I’m wasted off it; I want to consume her every worry and delight in the sourness of it; I want to dig my way into her head and put down roots she can’t ever pull out.

For the first time in forever, I feel like I have purpose—even if she hasn’t acknowledged my presence. I know with all surety that she’s the reason I’ve been stuck here waiting.The truth of it settles deep within me, temporarily soothing the unfamiliar ache that pulses through me with every step I take.

“The listing said it’s available on the 30th. Is there any chance of moving that up?” Skye asks the landlord and her soft, husky voice is so alluring that I nearly miss his response.

“Yeah. I could have you in as early as next week if you take it.” He shrugs and keeps walking, leading us downstairs toward the front door. “Just let me know as soon as you can, I have a few other interested groups.”

I roll my eyes at the lie but keep my attention on Skye as she makes eye contact with her roommates, having a silent discussion I want in on. I need them to move in. I hope they see the charm behind the peeling exterior. My stomach turns with hunger. I’m ravenous for her. I’ll wither away if she doesn’t come back. I pray and plead to whatever higher power has put me here that she’ll sign that lease.

A week later, she shows up and fills the emptiness around me with her all-consuming presence. Despite the heaviness of her innate sadness, I feel lighter than I have since Becca’s death. I start to think that maybe my misery is over, but then the reality of my situation sinks in. The torture is just beginning. My true obsession with her and the reality that she doesn’t know I exist, and most important, the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it.

Or is there?

If I’m forced to remain a ghost in this house, I might as well lean into it. I’m not proud of it, but desire can drive you to uncharacteristic things.

It starts innocently enough. I’m just looking for acknowledgment. I move things around in her room, lay next to her in the bed while she sleeps, and close cabinets and drawers when she’s cooking. But I never get the reaction I’m looking for. Either she’s purposely ignoring me, or she simply hasn’t noticed, too lost in the haze of a steady mix of drugs and alcohol that I have watched her ingest on a daily basis. I don’t know which is more frustrating. While she’s numb, I’m on fire with desperation.

With no other options, I shift my attention to her roommates. Maybe she’ll finally notice then. Or, at the very least, I’ll have something else to focus on. I need an outlet after all this time sitting in purposeless isolation. I start out small, tame – moving their things around and opening doors and drawers that should be closed – the same tricks I’ve tried with Skye. They too write it all off with barely a second glance.

Do these women truly have no survival instincts? Haven’t they seen horror movies?

I know Skye has; they’re her favorite. I’ve spent countless hours at the end of her bed watching them with her. When those tactics prove ineffective, I go for the real scares — opening their doors when they’ve just laid down in bed and pulling their blankets off. That, they can’t ignore. I grow bold, breaking dishes right in front of them, slamming their vanity mirror shut while they’re brushing their teeth. I even dare to take a phone out of Ava’s hand and throw it against the wall. That’s the final straw; they call a roommate meeting.

“I already emailed the landlord,” Sarah starts, “he told me we could break the lease if we find someone to move in here. He tried to convince us to stay with a lower rent offer, but there’s no way I’m staying in this creepy ass house.”

“I agree with Sarah. We can’t live here, it’s not safe.” Elle’s eyes shift around the room as she wraps her knit blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Shocker,” Skye mumbles under her breath, ignoring the glare Elle sends her way.

“I don’t want to be here anymore either. Do you think we can find someone quickly?” Ava pulls out her laptop from under the coffee table.

“Let me get this straight, you all can’t stand the idea of being here because you’re being haunted, but you want to trick someone else into living here when it’s quote, unquote, not safe.”

“It’s either we stay here, or we get someone else in. What other choice do we have?” Sarah gets defensive. I make a mental note to make sure the rest of her time here is downright miserable for even suggesting they leave in the first place. Right now, I’m too busy trying to stop the bleeding wound that’s opening up inside me as my connection to Skye is being forcibly removed. I’m going to lose her. This is the end.

“You know what, I’ll make it easy for you.” She stands. “I’m staying. You’re all free to go somewhere you feel safe, but I like it here. I’m comfortable and I’m not moving my shit again.” The other women call after her, but she ignores them as she goes up to her room.

After they’ve all cooled down, Ava goes up to talk to her.

“I’ve made up my mind; I already emailed the landlord and let him know I’ll take the lower rent offer. He gave me an even bigger discount since it’s just me.”

“Skye, why are you so adamant about staying here? I don’t want something bad to happen to you.” Ava scoots closer to Skye on the bed and grabs her hand.

Sky allows it, but her arm is rigid. “This ghost hasn’t bothered me or hurt me yet. Why would that change?”

“Well, clearly, it’s been devoting all its attention to the three of us,” Ava insists.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not leaving. I’m comfortable here, I feelat homehere. It’s been too long since I’ve had that. I won’t give that up because some restless spirit is getting some kicks out of messing with you all, I’m sorry.” Skye holds her roommate’s eye contact, making herself clear.

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