Page 50 of Presence

Shit!

My eyes dart from the spilled bottle to Camilla’s face. She just stands there, silent, breath catching in her throat, hands trembling, but she doesn’t make a move for the pills.

Thank fucking god.

I drop to my knees, lightning fast, securing the bottle in an iron grip and scooping the pills back inside, one by one, my fingers trembling. But I’ll be damned if I don’t get them all back.

Finally, with the pills secured, I stand up on shaky legs and gaze at her.

“Your neighbors told me you’ve been acting strange lately,” she says quietly, swallowing hard. She doesn’t meet my eyes, focusing on the floor. “They said you caused a scene with the elevator maintenance crew, nearly walked into traffic, frightened an old lady at the store, barged into restricted areas…”

I stay silent, unsure of what to say. I had hoped the shadows taking over my reality would remain unnoticed. That hope was in vain.

“I didn’t want to believe them,” Camilla continues, her voice soft but strained. “I thought they were just being mean. People can be mean to you for no reason. But now, seeing this... I realize they were right. I don’t recognize you anymore, Claire. I really don’t.”

A pang of guilt hits me, but it fights against the huge fear of losing the only thing that makes me happy. I need the dreamscape. I just need it.

“Cam, please,” I start, my voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s just that—“

She interrupts, shaking her head. “Don’t.” She sighs, raising her hands. “Just… don’t.”

With those final words, she exits the bathroom, her steps measured and heavy. Each one feels like a chasm widening inside me, but I can only stare past her, frozen.

It’s only when I hear the distinct click of the door closing behind her that I look at the bottle in my hand and feel tears start to form. I already broke my one unbreakable rule. Now, I’ve broken something even more important.

I often say I don’t want to be mean, that I don’t intend to ruin relationships... But didn’t I want to sabotage this one? To completely cut it off? Because without Camilla by my side, there’s nothing left to keep me here.

And shit… Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted.

15

Candlelight

Contrary to what it had seemed, Camilla didn’t give up on me.

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” her voice comes through my phone. I only plugged it in today and was surprised to see just how many voice messages she had left over the past two weeks. This one, though, is recent—sent an hour ago. “I didn’t mean it. You are my best friend, Claire. I need you to remember that. I just...”

I clench my hand at my side, pull my knees closer to my chest, and wipe away a stray tear. There’s no need for me to listen further. I know she’s sorry, and I forgive her. Damn it... Not only do I forgive her, but I also feel like the worst person ever. It’s me who should be apologizing. I should, but I’m too damn ashamed to do anything more than just listen to her sad voice.

After she left yesterday, I decided to take a sleeping pill. But this time, I didn’t pop it as soon as the fear started creeping in like it always does. I held off. I fought against it and didn’t give in right away. And... I think I actually won this time.

Of course, that mysterious presence didn’t show itself. If it had, I’d have had no choice but to run away immediately. Besides the usual feeling of being watched, I didn’t have any symptoms that made me question if yesterday’s events were real. I got lucky.

Anyway, the moment I met up with Echo, I felt all cozy and comfortable, and all my worries disappeared. The talk with Camilla got pushed to the back of my mind, and it didn’t make me want to cry anymore. It was like nothing even happened.

Until I woke up today, that is.

That’s when everything came crashing down. The conversation with her, her reactions, the way she looked at me like I was a traitor. The way my heart was squeezing in my chest, like I didn’t deserve it to keep beating.

So, I decided to turn my phone on. Now, I scroll through countless messages and calls and press play on another voice recording.

“I was thinking about everything last night, Claire,” Cam’s voice comes through, quiet and somber, sounding more like she’s hosting a true crime podcast than leaving me a voicemail. She couldn’t have known I’d plug my phone in, so this message feels like something I wasn’t even meant to hear. “I think it’s all my fault. If you’re listening to this, I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, sure, I’d say the pills were a bad idea after everything went south and I’d be regretting it now.”

She’s right. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.

“Well, that’s not what I mean, Clarity,” she says, her voice dripping with a mix of regret and something that feels a lot like guilt. My stomach twists at the nickname—Clarity—one my dad used to call me. It’s so unfair of her to use it now, to manipulate my emotions like this. And damn, it’s working. I’m totally hooked.

“Remember how I mentioned you might be haunted about a month ago? I decided to try that guardian spirit summoning thing... Honey, I think I made things worse for you.”

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