Forever dark. Loud and quiet at the same time. Nothing and everything.
She squeezes her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t have gone there. It didn’t help Addie Rose. You had to know that.”
I can’t talk about it right now. Not while the shaking is still rattling me from the inside out. “So you and Lena, huh?”
She shrugs with a chuckle. “She didn’t fight me like you did. She’s not as guarded. It wasn’t hard to introduce myself.”
“Even though you’re the competition?” I tease.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Two beautiful women fighting over you.”
I force a smile, suddenly uncomfortable with the topic. “Maybe. Hey, what does your carpet look like?”
Apparently, I can surprise her too. She looks over, eyebrows lifting in amusement.
“You mean the rug we’re on now?”
“It’s girly isn’t it. Like hot pink fuzz?”
She laughs and returns her head to my shoulder. Her sweet sigh is enough to make even the coldest man melt. “Oh yeah? What if I told you it was black and covered in a skull pattern? A certified rocker-approved design.”
“Skulls, huh?”
“And snakes.”
“Snakes too?”
“Also tarantulas.”
A chuckle sieves through my clenched jaw. A chuckle! Oh my god, this girl. When’s the last time I laughed? I don’t even care if she’s real or not at this point. “Are you sure you’re not confusing musicians with witch doctors?”
“Hmm. There’s a difference?”
The grin stays on my lips. “You still haven’t answered my question. Is it hot pink?”
I feel her return smile through the air. “No. Light blue actually.”
“Like your eyes?” Shit. That came out of nowhere.
Her arms tighten around me, and I pull in a breath and wait. “What color are your blankets?” she asks finally.
Her soft tone tickles the nerves along my spine. The strange rush helps detract from the realization that I don’t know the answer. Wait... I don’t? Of course not. What use is color in the dark? I look intently at the pile beneath us for the first time since I arrived.
“There are several. Most are so dirty it’s hard to tell. One looks red, one yellow. This one… green maybe? There’s an intricate pattern on this one.” I tug the fabric absently. “Wow, it was probably really beautiful when it was new.”
“I wish I could see it. I’d love to know.”
“To know what?”
“What beauty means to you.”
Another smile slips from my lips. “Beauty is the ghost in my head.”
I feel her response, the pleasure from my words, and turn to absorb as much as I can from her face. Damn she’s beautiful. Flawless in every way. I’d give anything to touch such perfection but can’t stand the thought of my dirty fingers on her skin.
No, it’s you who has the true beauty. Born of pain and refined by fire. Yours is pure.
My heart pounds in my chest as she reaches out and forces my hand to her cheek. I can’t breathe, can’t speak as we exchange souls, breaking and building lifetimes together without a single word. This is the eternity I crave.
“Rachel…” It’s a whisper on my lips. My thumb starts moving over smooth, vibrant skin. She’s life in this place of death, oxygen for a man who’s been buried for as long as I can remember. My eyes; I could just sit here and stare at her all day.
“I love you, Milo,” she says quietly. “I love who you are and what you’ve overcome and who you will be.”
Air lodges in my lungs as I shake my head.
She holds up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t know me as well as I know you yet.”
I pull in a harsh breath. “It’s not that. It’s… I can’t be anything. You know that.”
“Of course you can.”
God I wish that were true. “Please stop saying that. You know the truth, and it just hurts like hell.”
She jerks my hands to force my attention back to her. “The truth? What is the truth? You think you know, but one day you will heal and leave this place and become the man I see.”
My blood runs cold. The little air that was left filters from the room as I stare at her. She doesn’t know? How can she not know? My pulse starts racing, mind screaming. Do I even know?
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Her pain at my withdrawal is too much. I back further away from her.
“Rachel, how did you…” Shit, I can’t even say it. Angry tears burn in my eyes. What if… I can’t! I can’t ask it.
I don’t get the chance anyway.
Rachel and I go silent when Lena comes barreling down the stairs. “It’s Addie!”
I’m on my feet the second I hear her call. “Where is she?”
“She’s so much worse, Milo. She’s barely hanging on.”
“What? No, no, no. I have to see her. Please bring her to me.”
“I tried, Milo.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I did, but she’s too weak to walk, even with my help, and I can’t carry her down the stairs.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just… fading.” Lena’s desolate tone matches her expression.
In all my time here, no one has ever gotten sick. Not like this, and certainly not someone so innocent. She doesn’t even belong here, and now she’s the one to be struck down by some mysterious illness?
“Fading? What do you mean fading?”
“That’s what I’m saying. There’s no other way to describe it. She’s just… less.”
“Fuck!” I run my hand through my hair. I need to be with her. I need to get to her! I’m pacing now, fingers tangled in my hair. My brain runs frantically from one thought to the next but none of them gets me any closer to that little girl. I lock my hands on my head, breathing hard. I don’t know how or why, but somehow this is my fault. Since the moment she showed up, I sensed our fates were linked. So what did I do?
Fix your fucking mess and save your latest victim!
I rush for the stairs. There are shouts behind me, but I’m fast and surprise all of us with my outburst. There’s no room for reason once the rage takes over. Self-hatred is one strong, irrational beast, and right now it’s got its sights set on rescuing an innocent little girl. So I run, propelled forward by a force outside of my control, that self-destructive impulse I’ve known my entire life. I almost make it too.
Just as I reach the second step, I’m yanked back and shoved into the wall. It takes both of them to hold me there as I twist against their weight. “Let me go! I have to get to Addie!”
“Stop it, Milo! Stop!”
“I have to!” Even as I say it, I know it doesn’t make sense. We all know the truth. I can’t. I fucking can’t!
Lena is frantic as she pushes at my shoulders. “What are you doing? Milo, listen to me!”
She’s right. You have to calm down.
“Ahh!” I shrug them off and kick the bottom step. A throbbing pain shoots through my foot and up my shin.
The Rage is strong but too hot to last, and soon it burns out, leaving me in ashes on the landing. It’s there that the red starts to fade back to black, and I finally have enough air to function again.
I press my palms against my eyes, willing my brain to engage. “I’m sorry. I know. I just…”
Think. There has to be an answer. Even in the midst of chaos there’s always an anchor of logic.
Think!
A couple of weeks ago Addie was fine. She was coloring and laughing and feeding me her light even as my visions got worse. Then the drawings came. And then—
Grave Lady.
My gaze shoots to Rachel. Hers rests on me, saturated with everything good. Her face is compassion in its purest form. Everything about her is light and honesty and all the best things about being human. How could she possibly be responsible fo
r what’s happening to the only other ray of sunshine in this darkness? Sobs ache deep in my chest, emotion I can’t sort out, let alone accept. I lock it down, swallow it whole before it has a chance to make me its victim. Pressing harder against my eyes, I force air back into my lungs. Rachel came and the visions slowed. I got better; Addie got worse.
It can’t be that. How could one good thing cancel out another?
You think it’s me.
I look up again. She stares back with sad acceptance.
What if you’re right?
It can’t be that.
It can. What do we really know?
Am I supposed to choose between Good and Good? How terrible would a demon have to be to have that choice forced upon him?
It’s not that. Milo, look at me.
My eyes find her, beg her not to do what I know she will. Because she’s Light, and Light doesn’t let a little girl suffer.
You will still be with me. I will always want you with me.
Rachel, no. Please don’t go.
I can’t if you don’t let me.
I shake my head. What if it’s not you?
Let me go, Milo. You know you have to.
I rest my head on my knees and suck the last drop of oxygen from the room.
Chapter Eleven:
Left Behind
“She’s pretty,” Addie Rose says, staring over my shoulder as I sketch.
“She is.”
“She looks nice.”
“She’s that too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rachel.”
“Can I meet her?”
My mouth lifts in a half-smile. I wish. “I don’t think so, kid. What about you? What do you have there?”
She spins her book so I can see it. “Huh. A purple cow? I don’t know. Can cows be purple?”
“Duh, Uncle Milo.” She returns to her crayons, and I trace the outline of huge almond-shaped eyes and soft lips I never got to taste. I wanted to, though, didn’t I? Since she left, it’s funny how much I remember all the things we didn’t do. The words I didn’t say, the details I didn’t memorize. Is she watching me now? I still feel her. That hasn’t changed. Am I in her room, sprawled out on that blue rug, oblivious to her gaze? Not oblivious, I think, since it continues to sear deep in that place only the two of us can access. I don’t dare to go there anymore, though. Even now I have to force myself to ignore the faint flutter of fabric by the boiler, that sense of being watched. I’m glad she’s watching me.
“What’s that?” Addie Rose asks.
I look up, surprised to find the chest behind the boiler now parked in the center of the basement floor. I’d forgotten about that thing. Who moved it?
“I’m not sure,” I say, doing my best to keep the concern out of my voice.
“Should I open it?” She’s already at the bedroom door when I call her back.
“No, let me. Wait here, okay?”
She tracks my progress as I push up from the blankets and cross the cold floor. Crouching in front of the large box, I study the antique design. Strange that there’s no dust. No spider webs or debris either. Is this old box new? It almost has to be, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? I reach out to touch it.
“Uncle Milo!”
Fuck! Not again…
“Behind you!”
I duck on instinct, narrowly avoiding the fist flying at my head. Turning around, I lunge at the guy’s legs. We end up on the ground, me straddling the fucker who suddenly doesn’t look so confident. I launch a fist at his face. Then another and another. Shouts try to interrupt me, but I have no trouble blocking them out.
The growl rumbling from my throat as I pound away feels as good as it sounds. These idiots did us a favor by picking a fight over some stupid shit I don’t even remember. I was wound tight after today, and nothing can compete with the rush of watching this would-be thug’s blood color the sidewalk. Still think you’re tough?
My fists belong to no man. No, they have a will of their own and somewhere in the back of my mind a weak voice is wondering what a musician will do with damaged fingers.
“Milo, stop!”
Adam must have finished off his guy. Why the hell is he interfering with mine?
“Stop! You’re going to kill him!” Hands clench around my shoulders and yank me back.
“Fuck off!” I say and return to the mass of bloody flesh below me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adam shouts, coming for me again.
“Milo, seriously!”
Rick’s in on this too? What, my whole fucking band is going to take the side of these assholes?
I shove their arms away when they reach out. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I raise my bloody fists in warning. They freeze, eyes wide at something I can’t see. What horror has stopped them in their tracks? What monster? I turn to find it for myself but see nothing behind me except a graffiti covered dumpster dotted with fresh blood. They’ve retreated several steps when I look back at them in confusion. They’re still staring, faces drawn and motionless in the dim reach of the moon. Staring, judging, fearing… me.
When I come to, Addie Rose is crying beside me. Her expression holds all the horror of the vision she couldn’t even see. That emotion is for me and her view of its effect. Thankfully, I’m still on the floor so the contents of my stomach don’t soil our blankets this time. If the visions are back in full force, who knows when I’ll have the strength to wash them.
“Uncle Milo.” Addie Rose takes a few tentative steps toward me as I hunch over, trying to catch my breath.
I hold up my hand to stop her. “Stay back, sweetie,” I say as gently as possible. “I’m okay. I just need—” More retching, and this time I can’t pull in enough air. I end up on my knees, head resting on my forearms on the floor. Was that vision a real memory or another fabricated story like Rachel said? I can’t trust anything about myself.
Rachel. Just her name starts soothing the ache in me.
I shake my head. Our theory was correct. Once Rachel disappeared, Addie improved. Or was it that I let her go? It’s always about me. Milo the Terrible, the shredder of souls.
“I will get Lena.”
“No, I’m okay.” I use the strength I have left to push my head up again. Breathe, Milo. Breathe. Just for a second.
I recall my recent crawl to the window and the last desperate push for light before the visions wrecked me. Is that where I’m headed again? I’m convinced that Rachel saved me. They had nearly stopped by the time we had to let go of each other yesterday. The second she was gone… Another lurch rushes up my chest, and I clutch my stomach to try to hold it in.
“Addie, can you do me a big favor?”
She nods, eyes wide, teeth chewing her bottom lip.
“Can you go color with Lena for a while?”
“But…” That lip quivers in protest.
“Just for a little while,” I force out. I try for a smile too, but can’t get my muscles to cooperate. “Just so I can clean up.”
She studies me for another moment before finally trudging toward the stairs. “Okaaay,” she says. “I love you, Uncle Milo.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
Once she’s gone I’m free to collapse back to the floor.
The knife glides cleanly through the man’s stomach while his girlfriend screams behind him.
The smell of chocolate chip cookies drifts through the small house as Mrs. Simpson’s footsteps tap out from the kitchen.
The blonde girl makes a tempting prey at her table as she drools over me on stage.
“Just ask for Sinclair.”
It wasn’t my intention to pass out, of course. It never is, but when you’re weak, intentions are irrelevant. I wake to a brush of air on my cheek and force my eyes open. Relief shifts to concern, then panic.
“Rachel?” I try to push myself up, but my arms are still shaking.
“Shh.”
“What…? Addie!”
&nb
sp; “I know. I tried to stay away but you pulled me too hard.”
“Fuck,” I breathe out. “I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t control it.”
Her expression isn’t helping, that compassion working so hard to ruin my resistance. Her eyes glisten with whatever horror she had to witness. “I saw you lying there. I knew what was happening. It killed me not to be here with you,” she whispers. “I’m glad you couldn’t keep me away.”
She takes my hand and brings it to her lips. I close my eyes, absorbing as much as I can of her. Maybe it will be enough to keep her away next time. If only I were stronger.
“The visions are hitting nonstop again, aren’t they?”
Thank god I don’t have to respond. The trembling is answer enough. I focus on the pressure of her hand on mine to try to control it. “I’m not on your carpet, am I?” I ask, in an attempt to distract us.
“No. You’re on the floor. It must be cold.”
“A little. Mine is made of dirt. What’s yours?”
“Hmm. Tile, I guess? That’s why I have the carpet. It’s small, though. There isn’t a lot of space in my room.”
I nod, considering the change in her expression. I don’t like it, the way a truth I can’t accept hovers just below the surface. “Why do you smell like roses?” I ask.
Her smile gives me a burst of strength I use to sit up.
“You think I smell like roses?”
“Even when you were Grave Lady you smelled like roses.”
“I love roses.”
“So that makes you smell like them?”
“No. There are always some in my room.”
I like that. A part of me longs to see her view. I close my eyes to picture it. Light and roses and a shaggy blue carpet. “What do I smell like to you?” My eyes snap open. Did I really just ask that?
Her smile spreads into a grin as I kick myself.
“Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“No? You sure?”
“Oh I’m sure. I probably smell like a rotting corpse, stuck down in this shithole.”
She laughs and that rare mischievous glint returns to her face. “No. Not even close.”
Haunted Melody: A Ghost Story Page 7