Page 14 of Possession

“Look, you didn’t call, but you have this whole silent is sexy thing, artist bad boy vibe. I like it.”

My chuckle rumbled in my chest. “Silent is sexy?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded and another dimple popped in her other cheek.

“But I didn’t call.”

“Why is that?” she asked and her grin wavered.

She isn’t her.

You had your chance and you lost it.

“I’m not really—"

“Available?”

I nodded. “Not really.”

“Ex-girlfriend?” Her brows furrowed.

My jaw clenched.

“Bingo.”

“Kate—”

She held up her hands as she stood. She leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Friends. Friends call friends all the time.” She pecked me on the cheek quickly and pulled away. I could smell the scent of liquid courage on her breath.

“They do,” I said and forced myself to hand her my pencil. Maybe this time I would actually call her.

She scribbled numbers, almost illegible onto the bar napkin before she walked away and, if I hadn’t been paying close attention, I would have almost missed the slight wobble in her gait. She was drunk. Before I could think much more about it, Kieran stepped into my line of sight.

“You done, can we leave now?” He was angry.

“Sure. You okay?”

“Just fucking peachy. Let’s go.”

The next morning Liam was sporting a huge chip on his shoulder and a nasty hangover. The woman from the bar hadn’t been there when I had left this morning. I’d been in a hurry to avoid the conversation we’d inevitably have to have about why he’d drank so much. But, I pushed away the previous night’s events so I could concentrate on the painting in front of me. I’d been at the studio for a couple hours, and I was lost inside the canvas. Chandler had stopped in a few times, asking me if I wanted something to drink. He’d told me that another associate would be coming in soon and he would be leaving, so if I needed anything I could ask her. I didn’t pay him much attention as I swirled two giant blue orbs in the center of the white. The purples, oranges, and pinks blended behind them. They formed the ovals surrounding those haunting eyes, the same pair I loved to torture myself with. It was a mix of sunset and Paige. I hadn’t been able to get the color of Kate’s lips out of my head, not because I wanted them or her, but because the color pushed me to look harder, to see another female in the light of beauty beyond Paige.

My mouth was dry and my gut was empty. The growl almost echoed throughout the work space. I covered my palette with clear plastic wrap and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands. The bathroom was located in the back of the studio, down a hallway that led to an emergency exit. The water here never really got hot enough, and I had to scrub my hands almost raw to get most of the paint off. When I got home I would use turpentine under my nails and on the rest of the leftover paint. Earlier, I’d asked Chandler to book out the studio for me for the next couple of weeks. I was enjoying myself and, as I took in my paint-splattered appearance, my white shirt covered in blots of color, my lips spread into a grin. I hadn’t been lying to Liam. I really did feel better.

I dried off my hands and headed back to grab my bag. The music I had on played off the acoustics in the large space and it sounded fucking amazing. My mood was high, and I was so entranced I almost tripped over my own feet. In the entryway to the studio, I kneeled down and quickly tied my loose lace. A quiet gasp startled me and I raised my head. All the air in my lungs evaporated. The room was too bright, I was seeing shit. I focused my eyes on the apparition in front of me.

Paige?

I stood slowly, afraid of myself, afraid of the thin, blonde girl standing with her back to me in front of the canvas. Her head tilted back gazing at the giant pair of eyes looking back at her. She had to be a hallucination. But still, I moved with measured steps as my pulse pounded. Her hair was longer than I remembered, her waist leaner, her arms too thin. I imagined her face with fangs, and her nails as talons, and I was afraid that she would turn and look at me before I got within a safe distance. She looked too real to have been conjured up by my sick imagination.

Touch her.

Without thinking, I reached my hand out and took a lock of her hair between my thumb and finger. She gasped again, but this time with fear as she whirled around, her hair ripped from my easy grip.

“Declan?” she nearly shouted. The hand she brought to her mouth trembled, and her wide, empty eyes filled with that pretty shade of blue I knew all too well.

Stagnant. I felt utterly wrung out. The bags under my eyes were circled with what looked like bruises. My nightmares kept me tossing and turning for the majority of the night, and though I was grateful Chandler let me take the morning off, I was sure he’d have me make it up to him somehow. I exhaled a noisy breath at the thought. I’d spent most of the previous night remembering after sifting through the box Clark had sent me. Forgotten dreams, forgotten songs—a forgotten life. I’d spent so much time focusing on how we, Declan and I, had ended that I’d let the treasures fade. I paid for it by letting myself look through those small memories. My eyes fell to my fingertips, and I could still feel the soft shred of cotton I’d saved from one of his old t-shirts. Keeping the whole thing, I would’ve never been able to hide it, so I’d cut a piece off and put it in the box. After I’d fallen asleep last night, I’d been haunted over and over again. It had been the same dream no matter how many times I’d woken up, each time I fell back to sleep, the last days of us, of him, played viciously through my head.

I rubbed my arms as a sudden cloak of cold covered my skin. My eyes welled with tears, but I quickly wiped them away. Declan was a constant ebb and flow. Clark had tried to wash him away, tried to bleach my colorful mind clean. The church kept me down with tales of sin and used my crimes, my own fears, against me. I’d become overly exhausted, always hungry, but not able to eat much. I was falling apart.

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