Page 83 of Haunt Me

It's strange. It’s new. It’s addictive. It’s dangerous.

And then, out of nowhere, it happens.

…

She is paler than usual that hot day in May.

She doesn’t get up and run to meet me. She has grown into a beautiful woman, and I don’t know if it’s her eyes, her lips, her hair or the way she moves, but everything about her, everything she does, even just sitting there, existing, is driving me to distraction.

At first I’m relieved that she doesn’t get up. I can at least try to pretend that I am in control of my own body around her today—even though I amnot.

I approach her and reach for her arm greedily, easily, as I have done for the better part of the last two years, and that’s when I realize that something is wrong. She doesn’t turn around. She is too still, too curled up. Her chin is touching her knees, and I am transported back into the dark days of last year.

“No!” the sound that comes out of me is guttural.

She flinches.

She hasn’t done that in months. Since last year, actually. I forgot. I forgot how it was last year. How every little thing scared her, how closed off she was, how I fought to get her to stay. It’s been so good between us that I forgot.

“What’s wrong? Don’t… don’t be in pain.”

She doesn’t reply or turn around.

“Tell me, whatever it is. Tell me, Eden.” I sink to my knees in front of her.

She shakes her head and cold sweat drenches me. “I can’t,” she says. “I can’t.”

“Eden, look at me, come on. I’m having a heart attack here. What’s wrong, baby, what happened? Are you ok?”

She lifts a hand to keep me away. I am having difficulty breathing at this point. She won’t allow me to touch her.

She has never not allowed me to touch her, not even last year.

She turns around and looks at me then, and I wish she hadn’t. I recoil, nearly stumbling. She doesn’t look like herself. She is empty. Her eyes… there is no soul there. I can’t explain it any better. It is like she is gone; she is no longer here, with me.

“Remember when we talked about telling our families about each other?” she asks.

I nod.

I have told everyone and their mother about her, but I haven’t actually introduced her to any of my friends or family. She hasn’t wanted it. She always gets tense whenever I mention going public with our relationship, and so I stopped asking her. She won’t let me even tell anyone her name. Not even to my mom. But I still can’t shut up about her. Everyone I know is mad at me for annoying them with stories about ‘my perfect, invisible girlfriend’—a direct quote from James. I don’t care that they tease me and doubt her existence. She is not ready, and I’m not pressing her.

I decided that I would wait for years if she needs it.

But now… What’s happened now?

What on earth could have caused her to—

“Well, today, I did tell someone about you,” she says, turning her back to me, long hair swishing as she stands up and walks away.

She lets her hair down now. Has done for months. The minute she is in the forest, she undoes her braid, and I can’t get enough of running my fingers through it or playing with the strands. But right now, it’s a curtain she’s hiding behind.

“I finally told my dad about you.” Her breath catches. “He… he said I can’t see you anymore. I can’t be with you.”

“What? Why?” It takes me three efforts to get the words out. There are razorblades in my throat.

“Because,” she says, her back still to me. “He didn’t give me any reasons—and he doesn’t have to. I trust him, Isaiah. If he says I can’t be with you, then I can’t. He knows what’s best for me. I’m so sorry. It’s breaking my heart.”

“Wait, what is breaking your heart? I don’t get it. You’re not going to stop seeing me, are you?”

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