On the Fringe (16 page)

Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed shut. A cold shiver like an icy bead of sweat shot up my spine, bringing back to life my sleeping fear from last night. I tried pushing it away but couldn’t. No matter how much Daniel had tried to make my ghost visitor seem harmless, the thought of seeing and hearing that thing again made me anxious.

After dressing in my dark closet where no one or
thing
could see me, I put on my glasses and peeked through the crack of the door, looking for anything that might be lurking out there. So far, so good—my bed was still a mess from the morning, the floor strewn with books, clothes, and the pillow I had thrown at the wall; everything was exactly how it should be. Still, I felt like hiding out in the closet under a pile of blankets for the night, just to be safe.

A gust of wind burst through the window, whisking my curtains inward. I rushed to the window and slammed it shut, then took a deep breath and adjusted my glasses. For some reason those two flimsy lenses felt like an extra layer of protection.

That was before the lights went out.

Great.

My hands trembled, even thoughthe rest of me remained transfixed, lost in the dim reflection staring back at me in the glass.
She
looked scared—this person in the window with deep, dark circles under her eyes.

Behind me, I heard a faint creaking sound, like the bedroom door had opened. During one eternal minute of paralysis, I wondered if it was the result of some sort of delayed wind, or if something or someone had pushed it. When I finally turned around, to my relief nobody was there—just dark silence in the corner of my room.

I shuffled across the floor without tripping or falling, wavering at the side of the bed while trying to lasso a little confidence before it shriveled down to nothing. The seconds ticked by, the eerie silence holding me captive until a slight tickle found the inside of my ear, like the wings of a mosquito had brushed up against my skin. Convinced someone was there, I spun around again to find I was still alone, but unprotected and vulnerable, an impossibly easy target there in the dark.

Where was Daniel, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here about now?

I looked right…then left…catching only glimpses of patterned shadows on the walls or the glimmer of something reflected in the newly unveiled moon.

Nothing…nothing…still nothing…

And then in an invisible affront, the bedroom door slammed shut, and
it
attacked, sucking the air by my left ear.
“Ssssrooophhhh.
”

I screamed, leaping over the bed to the light switch, willing it to work, repeatedly flipping it up and down without success. The dark, ribbony shape advanced toward me, wrapping itself around my wrists like a possessed rope, a slow, cold burning of ice on my skin. The harder I tried to pull it off, the more it stung.

“Get off!” I yelled, finally peeling it away and running out into the hallway where I stopped at Matthew’s empty room, trying to decide where to go next. The windows and doors creaked against the wind, rattling my nerves even more. The hallway felt like a tunnel—dark and confining without windows or lights. I peered down the hall, toward the kitchen. A long shadow spread across the entrance, outlining a pale silhouette.

Daniel?

Hopeful, I tiptoed toward it, wondering if my imagination had gotten the best of me, like Daniel had said. I tried recalling his exact phrase, those simple words that calmed me so well an hour ago. I even tried to suck it up and be brave until a thought struck me, holding me back.

What if the shadow at the end of the hall wasn’t Daniel?
I froze at the bathroom door, the small of my back pressed into the wall, my head tilted upward as I waited there contemplating which direction to go. What if Daniel wasn’t here at all? What if the shadow down the hall was waiting for me…waiting to strike?

Not willing to find out, I turned back. My hand shook against the wall as I felt my way backwards, creeping past Matthew’s room and my own. My door hung wide open, but I hurried past, afraid to look inside. Counting in a low whisper upon each calculated step, I hoped to distract my mind and settle my nerves before reaching my parents’ room at the end of the hall.

Their thick, heavy door wasn’t latched, but only opened just a sliver. I placed my ear at the crack, my fingertips lightly touching the door, and listened for any sort of unwelcome noise or movement. All was quiet.

I nudged the door open with my foot, though it only moved an inch as a loud groan echoed through the empty hall. After another push, I slipped in and shut the door behind me, stepping straight into the path of an intruder. He was across the room near the foot of the bed, watching me, his piercing, beady eyes and pale face engulfed by a thick head of jet-black hair. His nose was long and narrow, cheekbones high and defined, and his face almost too delicate in contrast to all that hair and layers of black clothing.

I tried screaming, but my voice was painfully absent as the hot sensation of horror paralyzed me. All that squeaked from my mouth was an amphibian-like croak…and then nothing. I held a hand to my lips, searching for the words that had gone missing as my heart plunged into the bottom of my stomach.

His smile grew as he gracefully floated toward me—which was when I realized this was not a normal intruder. Somehow, somewhere my mind had made the jump from haunted ribbon to real-life ghost—and now I could
see
him. The thought made me lightheaded.

I spun around and attacked the door handle with fury, fumbling with it miserably until it finally gave way and the door opened. Gulping for air, I ran down the hall into the kitchen and stopped at the sink, nearly losing it, not quite sure where to go or what to do.

How do you run from a ghost?

I tried recalling what Daniel had said about
it
being just like him, determined the only option was to face the stupid thing. Except, I didn’t have it in me—couldn’t even face a fake haunted house on Halloween. This guy was for real…and was now suddenly by the sliding door.

His eyes met mine as he floated effortlessly toward me, a strange look of satisfaction on his face. He stopped a few feet away, almost like he was trying to decide his next move. I gripped the counter, feeling weak and dizzy, trying not to faint.

“What do you want?” I heard my voice squeak, though it sounded nothing like my own. I wondered if the ghost could hear, or speak, or both—if he was anything like Daniel.

His eyes drifted around the room like he was scanning the kitchen for something in particular, and then stopped at the black marble island, where the glowing moon lit up a tall vase filled with drooping white hydrangeas. He drew in close to the flower arrangement, his face level with the vase.

I watched him through the glass, though I didn’t want to, my eyes shifting back and forth—from him, to the flowers, back to him, wondering what he was doing. He remained focused, his thin jaw drawn rigidly tight. For a moment, nothing happened, and then he brought his arm forward into the vase, knocking it across the room as it hit a cabinet and fell to the floor, bursting apart into big watery chunks.

I screamed and jerked backwards, trying to comprehend how the bundle of flowers now lay in a pool of water on the floor. Pain signals began radiating from my arm as something warm oozed through my sleeve. I looked down and gasped at the blood, frantically searching for the roll of paper towels by the sink. The pain had doubled by the time I found them, and while whipping the roll around my arm, I realized the ghost was now watching me, his expression cold and malicious.

I dropped the paper towels and ran out of the kitchen, back down the hall, trying the lights as I passed each switch. But they were all still useless. I stopped, breathless, realizing I couldn’t keep running away; there was nowhere else to run. The lights were not coming on any time soon, my parents would be gone for at least another hour, and for some reason Daniel was a no-show.

“He’s just like me,”
was what Daniel had said.He’s
just a ghost
…not a demon or a monster, not something from my nightmares. Just. A ghost. Like Daniel.

Okay,
Not so bad…not so bad…not so bad…

My heart felt like it was beating through my chest.I closed my eyes, taking a deeper breath, and exhaling. Inhale…exhale…inhale…until I felt a clear, calm impression pushing its way through the adrenalin.

I thought I could sense the ghost coming up behind me, but I didn’t want to move or open my eyes, for fear of losing the stillness I’d discovered. Instead of running away, I tried focusing on the intangible energy stirring around in my mind, reminding me that
I
was alive. That
I
had a body. This was
my
world, not his
.

My heart gradually slowed, as if my controlled breathing had convinced it to come back from the edge. Time felt frozen, the circling darkness and quiet the only things moving.

I opened my eyes.

Daniel was in front of me now, watching me. My heart skipped. It felt like I could see warmth and love shoot out from him like a prism of colors…a deep, moody blue trumped by fiery red at the simmering memory of our first kiss just…when was it? Yesterday? I looked down to the silver reminder of Daniel still on my right hand, and twisted it around and around my finger, each turn bringing to the present thoughts and memories of him. Before long, I fell into a different place as the emotions attached to each memory engulfed me. I could feel myself smiling, and exhaled, the shocking relief of peace almost forcing me to my knees.

Daniel was across the hall now, but still eyeing me closely. With a finger on his lips, he motioned to something behind me. I turned around to find the ghost only a foot away, watching me. Now his eyes were wide and roaming, and he seemed slightly confused, maybe even a little annoyed as he drifted through me, down the hall, into my parents’ room.

Curiously, I followed him down there, watching as he floated through the room in an aimless circle. He did seem less daunting now, even smaller than I remembered, and I realized I was seeing him exactly how Daniel saw him—just some annoying guy with crazy hair.

Not so scary.

The thought should have cheered me up, or at least given me enough confidence to stand up to him, but he was suddenly moving toward me. When I looked into the cold, endless black in his eyes, I panicked and forgot how
not
to be afraid. Whatever evil or darkness the ghost possessed started seeping back into my mind, like he’d found a crack in my armor.

I backed into the wall as he flew at me and through me, overpowering my senses as an opaque shadow flooded my vision, the horrible screeching noise echoing in my ears and knotting my stomach.
“Ssssrooophhhh.
” He hovered over me, and I sunk to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. I couldn’t feel his touch when he put his hands on the sides of my face, but there was a strange, sickening sensation that felt like my face was imploding.

I refused to look at him. My heart slipped back into its pounding frenzy, the fear bleeding through and burning my nerves. Somehow, I could no longer run, scream or imagine any warm memories of Daniel. I felt too weak to even try. I was just cold and empty and afraid, and felt myself falling away into my own little black hole.

Everything went dark after that.

When my eyes opened, my body felt weak. I turned over and leaned against the wall, surveying the empty hallway still crawling in darkness. The air felt a little lighter, and I could breathe again, like I was emerging from an airtight closet…or a coffin.

Tucking my damp, stringy hair behind my ears, I looked around for any evidence of my real-life nightmare.

But the ghost was gone.

I expected Daniel to still be there, but couldn’t find him. He’d disappeared along with my strength. My breathing was slow and shallow, my eyes felt swollen, and tears stained my face. I crept through the darkness to my room, collapsed into bed, and fell asleep, too exhausted to be scared anymore.

Daniel

Claire looked tired and worried…and beautiful. She was sprawled across her bed with headphones in her ears, reading a book. It was daytime, so she couldn’t see me hanging out in the corner by the desk, immersed in her profile.

I felt guilty for having been a no-show for almost a week now. She wasn’t very happy about it, either. I wanted to come back, to touch her again, or at least explain what was going on, but was afraid to connect to her after what happened last time.

Her eyes were heavy with dark shadows that seemed to magnify her mood, and her left arm was still bandaged—both evidence of a night gone horribly wrong. It was the vase that really shook me. I was in total shock when it burst. How did he do it? I was afraid to even think about it.

Claire’s phone buzzed on her stomach, pulling me back into the room. I could hear Addie’s voice through the phone, making me miss my little sister’s enthusiasm and the way she was always laughing and making everyone smile.

Claire slid off her bed and wandered down the hall. I drifted through a couple of walls into the kitchen, where she was leaning against the counter, eating a handful of grapes. The conversation was mostly one-sided. Every couple of minutes Claire interrupted with,
“seriously?”
or
“yes,”
or
“I know!”
while discussing obscenely uninteresting things for over a half an hour.

Eventually, she wandered outside and lay on a bench. I zoomed past her, down the hill to a eucalyptus tree. Her voice ambled toward me as my mind ran in circles looking for a connection to her ghost tormentor. It drove me crazy that this wacko had the whole world to mess with, but for some reason he’d chosen to haunt Claire. I wanted to tell him to get a life. Ironic, huh?

At some point Claire went back inside, though I wasn’t paying attention anymore. My mind was too busy trying to swallow my new reality—that if I ever wanted to connect to Claire again, I had to take care of an unwanted ghost.