Page 61 of Phobia
When I reached for my wallet a second time, she waved me off and said, “Good luck.” Not “Thanks for stopping in” or “Good night.” I suppose I should have been more weirded out by it, but after four years of calling Winslow home, interactions like that didn’t strike me as odd as they once did. People in this town seemed to say or do the most random things and no one really batted an eye. Maybe that’s why Jamie wanted to stay here after he graduated—he found his people.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked Jamie as he sank into the bath water.
“Just you.”
“I don’t think we’ll both fit,” I said with a laugh, knowing for a fact the pitiful tub/shower combo wouldn’t be relaxing for one, let alone two, of us.
“We can try.”
I met his innocent smile with a grin. “Let me go get some of those magical candles we just bought. We can really set the mood.”
“Sounds good.”
I closed the bathroom door to keep the steam in and cut across to the kitchenette.
Water splashed behind the door.
“Did you forget something?” I asked, grabbing a couple of the candles and tucking them in the crook of one arm while I searched for a lighter in the junk drawer.
More water cascaded down the side of the tub, followed by a banging sound.
“Jamie?” I frowned at the noise—and the lack of response to my earlier question.
Setting the candles on the table, I hurried back to the bathroom and threw the door open.
Jamie’s head was completely submerged. His arms, however, stuck straight up out of the water, like he was trying to push someone off. Or something. No matter how much he flailed around in the tub, he didn’t resurface.
I didn’t give a fuck about the risks of touching a ghost. Sprinting to the bathtub, I grabbed onto Jamie’s shoulders and yanked him up as hard and as fast as I could. I expected some sort of supernatural resistance or something, but there was none. Jamie shot up out of the water like a rocket, coughing and sputtering and clawing wildly at the front of my shirt.
“You’re ok,” I said, hauling him out of the tub and wrapping him in a towel, rubbing his arms briskly as I steered him to the bedroom. “You’re ok, Jamie. Just try to take a breath.”
“He said he’s going to kill me,” Jamie said between coughs, clinging to the front of my shirt.
“I’m not going to let that happen. Do you hear me?” I hugged him fiercely, trying to stop the trembling in his body with my warmth and solid reassurance.
The only problem was… how was I supposed to protect him from someone who was already dead?
Chapter 11
My Critical Theory class was almost over when Dr. Corbin stuck his head in and caught my eye. He and the other professor exchanged a nod before Dr. Corbin tipped his chin up at me in a silent beckon. I gathered my stuff and sheepishly headed out the door, ducking my head so I could avoid the curious stares of my classmates. Not that I wasn’t grateful to miss the last ten minutes of a riveting lecture on the theoretical underpinnings of the American healthcare system, but it did feel a bit like being called to the principal’s office.
“How are you?” Dr. Corbin asked, keeping his voice low in the hallway. “Did you do the bath?”
I nodded, hating that not only had I failed his ghostly extracurricular assignment but I almost drowned in the process like a total loser.
Dr. Corbin frowned. “What happened?”
“I…” I debated lying to him, but since I was the one who’d gone to him for help, I opted for the truth. Clearing my throat, I waited for another student to wander by before I finished answering. “It didn’t work.”
“Why not? What happened, exactly?”
“The ghost tried drowning me.” I winced from both shame and the memory of that invisible pressure weighing down on me, the unbearable burning sensation as water filled my lungs, being unable to scream for help even though help was in the other room.
“Are you sure you’re alright, then? Jamie, I’m so sorry. That ritual has never failed me before. I’ve done it myself—countless times.”
“It’s not your fault. I probably messed it up somehow.”
“Impossible. Even with only half of the ingredients, the spell should have worked because the intention was there.” His brow furrowed as he looked away, mulling everything over in silence. After a moment, he straightened, looking more optimistic than before. “Perhaps you’re not the attachment.”
