Page 31 of Are You Scared, Krowe?
He was the school quarterback. It’s a miracle his heart condition didn’t get set off on the football field or in the gym, because he clearly spent a lot of time working on his physique.
"It would be my honor to help you pick them all off."
"Okay. Now." I say, striding toward the door decisively.
There's a little laugh from Spade as he slides in front of me at the last minute, clearly attempting to bar my exit. But he forgot,again, that he's a fucking ghost... that I am, too. So instead of boxing me in, I walk through him.
I shiver as the sensation of being touched rolls through me. It feels like fingertips grazing my flesh, everywhere all at once with reverence, devotion, worship.
I feel my nipples draw tight and my body clench with arousal I don't understand, not only because I don't understand how I can feel it, but because I don't understand how my body can react. I've looked in the mirror, and I'm still me, but also... not.
"Fuck." Spade groans. "What did you do to me?"
"Me?" I scoff. "You stepped in my way."
"I'm not complaining." He huffs, striding away from me to put some space between us before turning back to face me. "That was the most I've felt in ages." He drops his head to run his hand through his hair, and I hear him mutter, "Now I know why."
"I can relate." I tell him. "All I feel is anger."
It's an anger so potent I can't even put it into words. It feels like there's a black hole where my heart used to be, like I'll devour everything left in this world with this rage.
"Oh," he swallows, turning back to me. "I didn't mean emotionally. I meant physically. I thought it was just depression, that I just couldn’t feel the sun because I was so numb. But when I found you, I was furious. That was the most emotion I've felt in... however long I've been dead, I guess."
I laugh, because it's really so absurd. And also, sort of sad.
I've been dead for a day; he's been this way for twenty years.
I can't imagine going so long without feeling anything. It's kind of how I've felt since my dad died, and my mom turned into a drunk. I spent so long making myself invisible when I was still alive, and now I’m a goddamn ghost.
When Krowe paid attention to me, I fell for it like a goddamn fool. It had felt so good, in those few hours when I thought his intentions were genuine, that his interest only amounted to the typical amount. I knew he wanted me, but I didn't expect that to turn into what it did. The truth is, I was so starved for affection, I’d have probably given it up to him if he'd simply seduced me. But I guess that's asking too much... I guess it takes away his control, his fun.
I'm at Spade's side in the next instant, reaching for him, only to watch him dance away from my touch, like he's worried it will harm him.
"Please don't."
I halt, the rejection freezing me as his words feel like a cold pane of glass suddenly thrown between us... one that I've smacked right into.
I'd be blushing if there was blood left inside of me to rush to my cheeks. As it is, my embarrassment curdles in my stomach.
"I'm sorry," I close my eyes to try and focus on something other than the rage, the humiliation. Of course, he's notinterested in me... not after what he saw. I mean, how could he be? I can only imagine how disgusting I must have looked, given how disgusting I felt.
"No." He breathes the word, and I'm surprised by how raspy it is. His voice got suddenly deeper,dangerous. "It's not you. It's... well, it is." He laughs, like he's not saying that I'm a problem to him. "It's just, I haven't felt anything in so long. If you... if you touch me again, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."
Finally, I open my eyes to look at him again. I can't help but laugh when I do, because he looks like he's in physical pain. It's ridiculous, given that we are ghosts. We're metaphysical incarnations of a physical trauma that kept us bound to the place we died... or close by it. And yet, both of us are clinging to what it meant to be human... to be alive.
"What's the point of controlling yourself?" I shrug. "Wedied. I think we've earned the right to be a little out of control.”
He stares at me, his plush lips parted like he hadn't thought of that.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You can't hurt me." I'm confident in that. I'm dead, and the end of my life was a fucking nightmare. Nothing could hurt worse, mentally or otherwise, than what happened last night. "I mean, I can't feel anything at all."
It's kind of like being numb.
I had a tooth removed once, and they had to give me something to calm my nerves, which apparently worked too well. Then, the Novocain they injected into my gums made my whole mouth and tongue numb. It was weird to be aware of my body but also feel like I wasn'tinit. I think some people may call it dissociating; that's kind of what my afterlife feels like.
I'm here, but I'm not.
