Page 104 of Possession

I materialize sitting on one of the chairs in Henry’s bedroom with a wild fire roaring in front of me. The setting makes me immediately anxious; I’m unsure if it’s a threat to Henry’s safety or not.

Beside me, he sits.

We study one other for a few moments, my eyes roaming over what are now familiar features. For months, his face has been trapped behind my eyelids. I’ve seen his profile in the shadows and heard his voice out of the mouths of others. Aris was absent, but never gone.

As I look at him, drinking in the finer details I’ve forgotten with time, I don’t speak, terrified of ruining the quiet peace.

Finally, he says, “You don’t seem happy to see me.”

“Let me out of here.”

When he just raises a brow, I stand and start towards him—no plan in mind, irritation driving my movements. He rises elegantly to meet me, expression keen and anticipatory, which just annoys me further.

I poke his chest with my finger, hard. “Let me out now!” I demand furiously.

He glances at the spot where I touched him in bewilderment. “You are excitable this evening,” remarks Aris, then looks up to study me again, interest renewed

“I thought you were going to leave me alone,” I snap.

“I have,” he replies, sharply.

His gaze turns searing in a way that penetrates my anger, filling me with something… else; I have to look away. “I thought it would be for longer,” I mutter.

“It has been long enough.”

My fingers curl at my sides. I feel him continuing to stare at me, and it’s like half of my face is melting away.

“Come now,” he finally says. “Haven’t you enjoyed our games? I know I’ve enjoyed playing with you.”

“This isn’t a game!” I erupt. “It’s my life!”

I go to poke him again, hard enough to break my finger, but his hands wrap around my own before I can reach him, grip firm and unrelenting.

The rage trickles away, leaving weariness in its place. “I’m happy now, Aris,” I say quietly. I force myself to meet his eyes, desperation leaking into my voice. “I have my own life. Please don’t come here and wreck it.”

He appears completely unmoved. “You say these things, but you forget I am privy to your thoughts.”

My brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

He disappears, only to materialize behind me, making me jump when he puts hand on my shoulder. “You forget that I know you,” he says, amused. “I am what you think of when you sleep. I am who you listen for, whose voice you wait to hear.”

I won’t deny it; I can’t. Who was it that I wanted to see after Henry first kissed me? Who is it I think of when the silence cuts into me from all angles—isn’t that why I sit with Simon and his friends and endure their chatter? But still, I scoff. He picks and chooses what he wants to hear from my mind. Will he mention next the times I’ve cursed his name and wished him dead?

“I’m moving on, Aris. Did you really think you’d come here and I’d fall all over you?” I demand. “Everything awful that has ever happened to me is because of you.”

His hand tightens on me—not painful, but firm. “And what would your life have been without me? Pathetic and useless, the same as the rest of them.”

“It would have been my life!”

He scoffs. “You idealize it only because the possibility is gone.”

I don’t respond, imagining it: college, veterinary school, events and parties, meeting a good man. Waking. Showering. Going to work. Shopping at the store, considering between two cans of beans. Gaining weight, losing it. Filling my car with gasoline. So utterly boring and pointless, but there is beauty in peace.

It would have been secure. Everything known.

“And is that what you want?”

For some reason, I hesitate, and he laughs, boisterous and obnoxious.

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