Page 30 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

“You were protectingyourself,” I snap. “And your job.”

The pity in his face only makes me angrier. “All ghosts pass on eventually, Daisy. It’s what they do. They’re just echoes of the past. I was hoping to offer Dorian a chance to speak with you and resolve things before that happened, to giveyoua chance at closure, but it was always going to go this way eventually. He’s at peace now.”

I shake my head, furious tears spilling over. “No,” I whisper. “No, Dorian is different. He wasn’t supposed to go.”

I shut my eyes. I’m furious with Ezra, but also at myself. For my cowardice, my refusal to face the hard memories that might’ve told me something valuable about my history with Dorian. Instead, he’s gone before I had a chance to find the truth.

“It’s not your fault,” Ezra says. I’m not sure if he’s reading my emotions or if they’re written all over my face. “We did our best.”

He reaches for me, but I pull away. I don’t want to be comforted. If this terrible emptiness—this all-consuming grief—is what I have left of Dorian, then I hope I feel it every day of my life.

“I want to say goodbye,” I say.

Ezra nods, looking away. “I can leave the room and let you…”

“Not here.” I press my hand to the glass. “In there. If I can’t see him again for a real goodbye, at least let me be where he was. Maybe I can…” My voice trembles again, and I stop, swallowing hard. “Maybe there’s some hint of his presence left behind.”

Ezra looks between my face and the empty cell. He’s silent for a long moment. And then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I can… I’ll cover the camera. Give you a few minutes. That’s all I can do without someone getting suspicious.”

It’s not much. Barely anything at all, really. But I know he’s already taking a risk, so I don’t dare ask for more.

* * *

A few minutes later, Ezra leads me into the cell where Dorian was. All this time it’s been just on the other side of the glass, so close yet so out of reach, locked behind two iron doors to keep him from escaping. Now, Ezra shuts the door behind me, and I’m alone in the space that Dorian used to occupy.

This place is terrifyingly reminiscent of the time I spent institutionalized. When I think of being strapped down in bed, drugs turning my thoughts to sludge, it feels like the walls are closing in on me. But the fear oozes away as quickly as it hit me. I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to me, but this proves me wrong. The true horror is a life without Dorian in it.

I stand in the center of the room and look around, wishing I could feel anything other than a hollow ache my chest. I look at the cot set up in the corner, the table with the radio sitting on top. White walls, white floor. The viewing panel is shuttered from the other side to grant me privacy, making the room nothing more than a closed box. For years, Dorian was trapped in this room. Alone. Abandoned by me when I fled Ash Valley.

And now, just when I’ve come back for him, he’s gone.

Something inside of me crumbles. I fall to my knees on the floor, a cry ripping out of my throat. When it breaks through the numbness, the sadness is unimaginable. Like a physical blow to the stomach. I’m drowning in the loss, like I will never feel anything other than grief ever again.

But not just grief.Anger. Anger that Dorian was torn from me in the first place, that he was trapped here for years without me knowing how to reach him. Anger at myself for not being able to conquer my memories for his sake. Anger at the unfairness of it all.

I scream into my hands, letting out everything I’ve been bottling up for so many years. The room trembles around me; the table and the bed shake, only remaining grounded because they’re secured to the floor. The radio lifts off the table, floating. The air pulses, brimming with overflowing energy. I have so much anger and no way to let it out.

I wonder if I could bring this building crumbling down. If I could tear apart the walls that kept me separated from Dorian until it was too late. It might be worth it, even if I bury myself in the wreckage…

A hand grasps my shoulder.

A gentle squeeze coaxing me back from the brink. Dragging me up from the whirlpool of my emotions. The room stops shaking; the radio clatters to the table. I tilt my head back and look up into a blank white mask.

My heart stops. For a moment, I can only gape. And then I say, voice trembling, “Dorian?”

Chapter Fifteen

As he reaches to cup my cheek, Dorian’s glove is warm and leathery and familiar against my skin. I shut my eyes, breath hitching, hardly able to believe this is real. But when I open my eyes again, he is still standing there. More solid than his earlier appearances, barely a blur around his edges. My gaze combs over him—the dark eyes behind his white mask, all four gloved hands hanging at his sides, that all too familiar suit that I always found so dashing.

Perhaps I should be afraid. The mystery of my parents’ murders…that recollection of almost drowning in the bathtub…the way he’s changed over the years since I abandoned him. All of those things seemed so important before tonight, when I faced the reality of losing him.

Now, I clamber to my feet and throw my arms around him. “Dorian. But how…?”

He tries to pull away from me, but I clutch him closer—needy, desperate to know that he’s solid and real andhere. And after a brief hesitation, all four arms wrap around me and his chin settles on my head.

As Dorian holds me for the first time in years, I find that I don’t care enough about thehow. I hadn’t realized how cold I was, shivering on the tile in my nightgown and my coat, until his warmth surrounded me. I have never felt as safe as I do now. My body knows him even if I can’t remember the details.

“You’re here,” I whisper. I stand on my tiptoes to press my face into his chest, wind my fingers into his dark hair, hold him as tightly as I can. I will hold him forever if it means he will stay visible and solid and real. I want to climb under his skin, stitch us together so we can never be separated again. “Don’t disappear on me again. Please.Stay.”

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