Page 1 of Presence

1

Sixth Sense

“Please don’t even start,” I say, rubbing my temples with both thumbs as I lean over a pure white, shiny table that reflects the light like nearly every piece of furniture in my apartment.

“You should get that checked out, that’s all I’m saying,” replies, sitting across from me. She’s sipping a mix of wine and carbonated lemonade from a tall glass, ice clinking together as she swirls it slowly with one hand.

I could never understand her obsession with creating drinks that seem outright ridiculous, but maybe I judge her too harshly. Maybe I should drink as much alcohol as she does, and my problem would disappear. Maybe I should just let loose and stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’.

Yeah… Maybe.

“Right, we’ve been over this already,” I exhale, running my fingers through my hair and feeling each strand prick my scalp like a needle. “I can do that. But then I’ll start taking meds I don’t want, get addicted, and end up unable to imagine life without them.”

“Eh, maybe a little addiction would be the lesser evil here?” suggests. I force myself not to wince. Addiction runs high in my family. It’s a curse I’ve been born with and have hidden from daylight for as long as I can remember. Not many people know this, but does.

Still, I can’t blame her for suggesting it anyway. Just look at me. My eye bags must be the color of an old aubergine, my hair is matte and dirty, and my lips are dry and chapped like they’ve been sandpapered.

I’m a mess. But… better a mess than being dependent on substances.

“I’m not giving in,” I say firmly. “I won’t pretend I’m fine, but going to the doctor isn’t an option.” I let out a sigh. “Can we talk about something else? You haven’t visited me in a week, and I don’t want to spend our time talking about what happens when I’m alone.”

“Mm,” she muses, a smile on her face. “The things I do for you, though...” She picks up her drink and downs it, leaving only ice in the glass as she sets it down with a clink. “We can talk about those, right?”

“Sure,” I mutter, resting my head in my palms as my shoulders slump. The moment Camilla crossed the threshold of my apartment, the heaviness I’d been carrying on my shoulders became too much.

I’m exhausted, and her presence brings it all out in me. She calms me. Only when she’s here can I really, truly sleep. It must go back to the time she let me sleep in her bed when I ran away from home. Unlike at home, it was always so peaceful with her.

Ugh... I just want to crawl into bed and sleep right now.

“Guess what? Your girl got asked out on a date today—by none other than Jackson from marketing. You know, the one I’ve been eyeing all this time,” she says.

“No way,” I reply, raising my eyebrows. “That Jackson?”

“That Jackson,” she confirms, puckering her lips and nodding slowly.

“And how did it go?” I ask, my voice getting drowsy even though I try my hardest to sound bright.

The truth is there’s nothing bright about me lately. But I can try, right? That’s why I remodeled my entire flat in white—chasing the brightness I can’t seem to find within myself.

“He asked me out today, Claire,” she says, using that tone that makes it clear I just messed up. “And guess what? I ditched him to come here and give you my special voodoo calming vibes. Seriously, I hope it’s only you who falls asleep around me. It would suck if I finally met up with Jackson tonight and he conked out on me too.”

I cock a brow at her.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not a witch, Cam,” I chuckle. “I’m just messed up, that’s all. We have some kind of… weird synergy going on—me with all my mental problems, and you without any. It’s like we balance each other out.”

She glares at me.

“Mm,” she muses in a high-pitched tone while squinting her dark brown eyes. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve got some extra magic juice running in my veins, honey.”

I want to scoff, but I’m too damn tired. It feels like my head weighs a hundred pounds, and all my facial muscles ache. Honestly, I’ve endured this pain all week, but now that Camila’s here, it’s the only time it feels worth it.

I could show her some personality instead of this empty shell of a human being. I could laugh harder, smile wider, and engage more. There’d be a purpose to the pain. Right now, I’m just suffering for no reason beyond my inability to sleep.

Or my detestation of it. Or fear. Or that bone-twisting feeling that someone is always watching me.

All those things? They’re only in my head, but they consume me to the point where I can’t fight them off.

I think it’s because I’m so dark at heart that when the darkness comes for me, it just swallows me whole. I don’t see a single spark of light when I’m in that pit.

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