Page 64 of Ghosts of Halloween

“Weren’t you ready to die just now?” he grunts, the mocking edge in his voice coming through even as he pants with exertion. “What changed, angel?”

“You’re taking the choice away from me,” I wheeze, reaching out to try and crawl out from under him.

And even as I fight him, panic rising in my gut like a tide, I can’t hold back the flurry of sparks pouring through when his heavy weight settles on top of me. God, I’m so fucked up. “Why did you even stop me?” I spit, squirming desperately when he grasps my nape, pushing my face into the floor with an angry hiss.

“Calm the fuck down, and I’ll tell you,” he snaps, pushing up so he straddles my waist, still holding my nape. “Honestly, angel. You tried to kill yourself twice. I don’t get why you’re freaking out.”

“Because you said you’re gonna kill me!” I rasp, my voice hoarse from screaming and being held down.

Silas snorts, clearly unimpressed by my response. I reach for his hand, digging my nails in until he sucks in a breath and grabs my hair, pulling sharply. I let go with a moan.

“All right, stop. Harlow, there’s more to it,” Caden says, making me freeze. So he’s in on it. Jack hasn’t come to my rescue, so I assume he is, too. Three against one. Fuck. “Let her go, Silas. We’ll all sit down and talk. We have time.”

But even as Silas pulls away with a grunt, I stay on the floor, shaking.Oh, my God. They want to kill me. Even Jack. I’m trapped and I can’t escape.The enormity of what’s happening crashes into me, and I drown in panic, my body and mind suddenly back in that moment, years ago, when I thought I was dying.

Cold sweat breaks out all over me, and my right arm explodes with phantom pain, invisible flames licking over my skin as a terrible force crushes my flesh and bones. My chest is so tight, I can’t breathe, but even as no air comes in, I still feel the memory of greasy smoke coating my nostrils.

I’m back in that street, the car upside down next to me, the metal groaning under strain. Gasoline soaks into my clothes, and I know I have to move, but I can’t. My forearm is pinned down, exploding with agony, and I can’t move it, no matter how hard I try. I’m twelve, too small, too thin for my age. I can’t pull my hand from underneath the overturned car.

Flames lick the other vehicle down the street, and I know they’ll be on me in minutes. I desperately try to tug my arm out, but the pain is so crushing, white spots dance across my vision. My strength flags, and I can only lie there, shaking and knowing.

Knowing I’ll die.

I can just see my mother, still inside the car. Her safety belt worked as it was supposed to, so she stayed in the car. Mine was broken, so it snapped when she drove into the speeding van, and I crashed through the windshield. The car followed, rolling, until it stopped almost on top of me.

Mom’s face is covered with blood. It’s difficult to see through the web of fractures in the side window, but I don’t think she’s breathing.

I gulp air to scream for help, inhaling a lungful of nasty, black smoke, and cough. Terror rides me, but I can’t let it out. I can’t do anything. As helplessness washes over me, I don’t even cry when it fully sinks in—I’ll die. All I feel is utter despair. Because… is this really it? Am I here, in this world, only to suffer, and then be gone before my life even truly begins?

I groan, trying one more time to free my limb. The pain recedes, numbness taking over, and I have to blink over and over as my eyes unfocus, my vision blurry. I take shallow breaths, the smoke curled low over me, covering my body like a shroud. It fills my lungs and clings to my skin, and I gasp repeatedly, thrashing on that road, the slick wetness of gasoline coating my back.

Just before I drift away, terrified of falling into the cold darkness of death, yet unable to hold onto life, I think I hear sirens and Noah’s voice.

I’ve got you.

It breaks right through the crushing terror, and lets me sigh in relief for one brief moment. And then I choke, inhaling another lungful of smoke.

“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I emerge from the panic attack shaking and disoriented, clinging to strong arms like they are my salvation. My missing limb hurts like a bitch and I can’t help letting out a muffled moan of pain, burying my face into warm skin.

“Harlow, what’s wrong?” someone asks. I blink slowly, hyperventilating, and finally recognize Caden’s voice. As I try to breathe in a deep, smoke-free inhale, I smell Jack’s skin. He holds me tightly in his lap, and another pair of hands are on my shoulder and arm, stroking gently.

“B-bad memory,” I choke out, embarrassed. It’s been years since I last did that. Fallen so deep down the trauma hole, I lived through the accident again. I take another deep breath, letting my vision go out of focus to help my body relax a bit.

“The rape?” Silas’s quiet, intense voice comes from right behind me, and I flinch.

“N-no, but thank you for the reminder.”

He huffs something between a choked laugh and a sigh, and Jack’s arms tighten around me. “Shut the fuck up, you asshole. Baby, will you be okay to talk in a moment? Fuck, we really should explain it to you before…”

“Before you k-kill me,” I say, shivering so hard, my teeth chatter.

There is a moment of silence, and then Jack confirms sheepishly, “Yeah.”

I shiver again, and he hugs me more tightly. But my panic is gone, the terror abating. It’s not like they are chasing me with a knife or something. This feels pretty good. When I cuddle with half-naked Jack, enveloped in his scent, suddenly the prospect of death becomes elusive and strange. Nothing like the agony of that night.

“I sometimes… go back,” I say, squirming in his lap to sit up. Silas kneels behind me, his hands moving to my shoulders, while Caden sits cross-legged to the side, close but not touching. “To… that accident. You know.”

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