Page 35 of Come Out, Come Out

Aiden

August 13th, 2021 – 1:00 AM

I sit across from Skye at the table and am immediately transported to the first night I was able to touch her.How much things have changed. I could never have imagined a reality where she’d know I was the ghost who haunted her house or one where she’d willingly fuck me knowing that. A flame of hope burns brightly, but with the possibility that our time may be limited, I know I need to give her everything she wants.I need her to trust me.This is my last chance. I can’t, I won’t, fuck it up.

“What do you want to know?”

Her brows raise, and she tips her head pointedly at the shot in answer.

The fiery liquor coats my throat and pulls the words out of me like truth serum. “So, you know who I am now. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. It’s just not something you bring up in casual conversation.”

Skye huffs bitterly. And somehow, it’s reassuring; I love that she’s a woman who takes no shit.

“You deserve an explanation, and I know it sounds like an excuse, but it’s not like I have experience with this.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing back the rogue pieces that hang over my eyes. I want her to see me. I need her to know I’m being genuine. “How do you tell someone you’re dead? Is there a good way to explain that, somehow, you’re in your body, but you don’t know why or for how long?”

Skye refills the shot and pushes it toward me silently.

I take it because I’m going to need it to dive into the dark truth of it, that I’m a murderer. “Remember how I mentioned that I’d had a twin sister.” Skye nods. “Well, she . . . she killed herself, and I killed the men who drove her to it. I didn’t plan it, I just did it. When I found out that they tormented her so relentlessly for months, my hatred for them festered, mixed into a thick, toxic tar with my grief, poisoned my thoughts until I was consumed by the ugliness of it.” My throat grows tight and my eyes sting. “You have to understand, I’d been suffering for years. That loss had eaten away at me for half a fucking decade. I couldn’t stand the thought that they were going to get away with what they did without consequences—my sister wasn’t here to hold them accountable—so I had to.” My voice cracks. “I needed them to feel pain like she did; like I have. So, I drove over to their house, this house, and I killed all three of them.”

A loud silence fills the room. A guillotine hovers over my head as I wait for her to tell me to stay away from her.

“I know.” Skye crosses her arms over her chest. “I looked into you. I went to your house. I met your mother.” Her gaze avoids mine. “The reason you did it, I understand—as much as someone who’s never been close with their sibling or any of their family can.” Finally, she meets my eye. “Had you done it before? Killed anyone?”

My ears are ringing from the bomb she’s dropped on me. She knew. And she let me touch her, let me sink inside her, let me hold her down and violently fuck her throat at my mercy? I can only shake my head as my mind tries to catch up with her acceptance.

“Did you enjoy it?” The question is hardly audible as her lips close around it, trying and failing to stop the words.

I spin the shot glass in my fingers. I promised her no more lies. “Yes, I did. It was the first moment of peace I’d known since I found my sister all those years ago.” Something softens in her demeanor as I continue. “One of them was my ex. Did you know that?” Skye shakes her head, the onyx hair sweeping over her shoulders. I want to weave my fingers into the inky strands and anchor myself there. “He started tormenting her because I ended things with him.”

“You can’t know that,” Skye says with conviction as she wraps her fingers around my wrist.

“I do. It started a few weeks after I broke it off.” The admission I’ve been avoiding claws its way up my throat and pries my lips open against my protests. “It’s my fault she’s dead.” For the first time in so long, heat coats my cheeks and my vision blurs. I bite my lip so hard, I draw blood. A small penance.

“Aiden,” she squeezes my wrist tighter, “it’s not your fault. You didn’t owe him shit. Someone like that, they don’t just suddenly become bitter and vicious, they’re born like that. The world is better off without that kind of person.” Her brown eyes are a deep well of empathy and I have to blink the tears from my lashes to confirm that’s what I’m really seeing.

The truth of her words cast away some of the sorrow that’s been clinging to me. I tense my jaw and nod, pulling back the emotions that threaten to spill over. There’s something else I need to hear from her, something far more important. “Are you afraid of me?” I don’t think she is, but I can’t settle the worry writhing through me like a parasite until I hear her say the words. Our games have been fun; I’ve basked in the murky waters swimming with lust and fear. But if she’s afraid of me now, it doesn’t bode well.

“No, Aiden. I’m not afraid of you. You’ve had every chance to harm me.” Skye pours herself another shot and throws it back. “What I do fear, is that I’ve come to crave you.” She huffs a humorless laugh. “Despite everything, I’ve become attached to you. I might even need you.”

With the validation of her admission, I ache for her. My own need oozes out of me and clings to my skin. It’s replaced the sweat in my pores.

“So, what now?”, she asks, her eyes wide with apprehension.

Everything,I want to say, but that’s not possible. So I settle for, “Want to watch a movie?”

She laughs. “What?”

A shy smile spreads across my lips. “I just . . . I want some semblance of normalcy. I just want to be with you.”

Skye’s brow furrows as she studies me. “Sure, we can watch a movie, but this conversation isn’t over.” She waits for me to nod my concession. “Do you like pizza?” She winces. “Can you even eat?”

“I can drink, so I think so?” I laugh nervously. I honestly have no idea what the parameters are in this situation. I have a body in the technical sense. I can touch, I can feel, I can taste, but I don’t know what the limits are. I don’t know how any of this is possible. I should be a decomposing corpse, but I look exactly as I did in life down to my clothes and shoes. My fingers find the dangling earring I took as a reminder of Becca. I’m so grateful that I have this piece of her.

Skye stands and grabs the bottle of whiskey, then pauses holding out her hand. It’s all I can do not to stumble over myself with eagerness to grab it and never let go. I follow her to the living room she barely uses and sit on the couch with her.

“What kinds of movies do you like?” I barely register the question as she leans down to grab the remotes from the TV stand, her round ass on display. She must have asked me again because she rolls her eyes, walks back over to the couch, and sits a few inches away from me with her legs tucked to her side.

“Something scary.” I want to see her happy. I want to enjoy this with her. What I don’t think about is the potential awkwardness, given our situation. She watches me out of the corner of her eye for a minute, their gaze catching in a silent conversation,“Is this weird? Is it wrong?”Skye scrolling to the horror section is a resounding“No.”Or maybe, it’s a“Who cares?”It’s not like anything about us is in the realm of normal, acceptable behavior to most people.

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