Page 13 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
What a sad thing to say.
My chest already feels burdened with the gravity of him—not wishing to let him go. Lanston Nevers. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a man so filled with somber thoughts and lovely words. His eyes are enough to sink my ship in a dark, starved ocean. That scares me most of all.
“You have someone keeping your memory alive too, don’t you?” he asks sleepily. I let my eyes close and think about that for a moment. I think of my cruel stepmother and father. They wouldn’t keep my memory alive in a way that’s true to how Iactually was. Neither would my distant relatives. Not my last love.
“No. No one will think of me.” I keep my eyes shut but I can hear him shift on the sofa with discomfort at my words. “I think I prefer it that way. I like being forgotten—it’s more poetic and tragic.” The corners of my lips lift slightly.
I’m delighted that Lanston was so loved in life, but a sting of jealousy remains in my heart. We all want unconditional love, but it isn’t handed out like it is in the movies. You aren’t born loved—at least I wasn’t.
It’s something you must prove you’re worthy of. Smile, say yes, and be polite. If you have a meltdown or speak up against your aggressors, you lose the little love you’ve earned.Isn’t that how it goes?Well, it was for me. I never quite wholly figured it out. It’s a point system of sorts—a cruel game of give and take—constant observation and judgment.
Children must learn quickly, lest their hearts be corrupted like my last love’swas. He was created—molded by the hands of evil human beings. Then, set loose upon the world. Upon me.
My love.
His love wasn’t unconditional.
The silence is dreary, so I open my eyes just enough to see Lanston staring at me with concern. I restrain the groan at his pitiful expression for me.
“I’ll think of you,” he murmurs as the last of the candles wisp out around us, leaving our ghosts in the dim moonlight.
I smile and hope he can’t see the tears that build in my eyes. “You don’t know me, Lanston, and you’re already dead.”
“I don’t need to know you to think of you, Ophelia. You’ve already imprinted yourself into my mind. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how unique you are, how alluring.” He leans forward again, and as tired as I am, I sit up to look him in theeyes. My messy hair falls over my shoulders. “Though, I wouldn’t mind being able to get to know you.”
I hold his steady gaze and pick at the edges of my dress as nerves swarm inside my chest. “You wouldn’t want to think about me if you really knew me. I’m not a good person. I’m selfish and awful.”
The air is warm between us. Something I haven’t felt from a phantom,ever. When I’m near Lanston, it’s almost like… I’m alive again. Emotions I thought I left in my grave come to life inside my veins. Each breath is increasingly more labored than the last.
“I’m no saint either,” Lanston says as he raises a brow and cracks a smile that shows off his perfect teeth.
“I’m not…good,” I say with a grimace. He stands, makes his way around the coffee table, and motions to the spot next to me for permission to sit. I nod.
Lanston settles beside me; the weight of his presence is all-consuming. My heart slows and speeds at the same time—hesitant and worried about all the things he may or may not feel that I certainly am in this moment.
“None of us aregood. We’re simply human.” He leans closer and brushes my hair softly back from my face. “You feel the world more than others do, don’t you? You’re like me in that sense. Drowning in the expectations and eyes. Would you believe me if I told you when I was alive all I wanted was to die?”
My eyes widen. I thought I saw a familiar sickness in the way he stood so sadly on the edge of that bridge today. Lanstonwantedto die? He laughs and nods as if thinking back to his old ways.
“I was unwell, but mainly just… sad. In many ways I think I always will be. Were you sick too?” His question is clear.Were you mentally unwell?I want to say, who isn’t? Our minds areall so different and ill in alternate ways, yet there is a profound comfort in knowing we are not alone in it.
I hesitate but clear my throat.
“I was raised to keep the dark thoughts inside my head to myself. My family didn’t believe in therapy. In fact, it was often used as a threat.” I laugh at the concept that they planted inside my brain. “If I was depressed oroff, they would threaten to take me to the counselors so they could see and confirm how awful I was. I was afraid of that… the eyes of people, the judgment they would pass.”
Lanston lowers his hand and holds mine. His warm touch sends shivers straight up my spine. “That’s terrible.”
I nod. “It is… but I didn’t know it then. I was terrified of the world finding out how disturbed I was. How rotten and twisted.” I shake my head to keep the tears from forming. “I was very sick and untreated. I wish I had found friends like you did.”
He tilts his head slightly and then his eyes light with an idea.
“Would you like to meet some of them? I actually sorta still live at Harlow.” My face shifts and realization dawns over me.
He’s fromHarlow Sanctum.
He dips his chin, reading my expression easily. “So you’ve heard about that place, huh?”
I lean forward to look closer at him.
