Page 44 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

“I understand.” The sympathy in Ezra’s tone makes my stomach twist with guilt. “But we can’t rush this. Like I said, I want Dorian to be free, but I want to do itofficially.There was an incident, with X-14, that shook peoples’ faith in our new leadership, but I think this can restore it and pave a path for the future. I’m sure I can convince Dr. Wright and the Director, given time. But that means we have to beextremelycareful about this. Not just for Dorian, but for all of the other patients that will come after. That’s why I’ve been so careful this whole time. We have to do this the right way.”

Another wave of guilt churns my stomach, but I swallow it. I hadn’t thought about what this means for the other patients. I can only afford to think about Dorian. I have to do what’s right for him.

I feel the same flicker of guilt I did in the cell, when I told Dorian that Ezra wasnothing. Maybe I meant it more than I thought.

Chapter Twenty

My nose bleeds on and off the entire drive back from the MRF. Fractured memories assault my mind, making it hard to focus on the road. Being so close to Dorian must have cracked the dam. Now I see: Dorian pushing his mask up to kiss me in the garden. Dorian holding me from behind while I brew tea in the kitchen, his chin resting on the top of my head. Dorian above me in bed, our breaths mingled, tangled in sweat-slick sheets.

He was my lover. My first and only.How could I have forgotten?

By the time I make it home, I’m lightheaded, my face crusted with blood. I stumble up the steps to the front door, fumble with numb fingers to discard my coat and boots, and head straight to a bath.

Scrubbing the dried blood off me helps. But I can still feel the imprint of Dorian’s fingers on my skin. What happened today was a mistake. A betrayal of Ezra’s trust. And it’s left me more confused than ever.

Another memory flashes through my mind like a burst of lightning—this one from one of our hypnosis sessions. The one of invisible hands holding me underwater in this very bath until it felt like my lungs would burst.

I shiver, suddenly cold despite the steaming water, and pull my knees to my chest. I still can’t make sense of that, or Dorian’s insistence on pushing me away. The more I think about it, the more I try to put together my splintered memories, the more my head aches.

A drop of red falls in the water and slowly disperses. My nose is bleeding again.

Between the blood loss, my headache, and the steam filling the room, I’m too foggy and exhausted to do anything about it. I just watch as blood drips, drips, drips into the bath, turning the water a murky pink. My eyes drift past it, over the edge of the porcelain tub, to the fogged-up mirror beyond. Red flashes in my reflection—not dripping from my nose, but glowing in my eyes.

I blink, scrub a hand over my face, and it’s gone.

God, I’m really losing it.

I sigh and shut my eyes, letting my hand drift down over my mouth. My fingers smear blood over my lips, down my neck. They continue to drift between my breasts, over my stomach. My knees slide apart. As my thoughts blur, my head lolls back against the side of the tub, and my hand moves toward the apex of my thighs, where I’m still sore from my tryst with Dorian.

What am I doing?

I watch my blurred reflection in the mirror through heavily lidded eyes. My own hand strokes over my achingly sensitive core beneath the blood-tinged water. I let my eyes slide shut, my soft whimpers filling the room. I’m already sore, but a little bit of pain only seems to heighten the pleasure.

I come so hard it hurts, clenched around my fingers—and for a heartbeat, I feel hot breath against my ears, a larger hand wrapped around my own, urging my motions. I try to scream, but I can’t move—can’t do anything as I slowly slide into the tub, until my head slips beneath the surface of the water—

Then I sit up, coughing and gasping, suddenly in control of my body again. I rake wet hair out of my face and drag myself out of the tub and over to the mirror. I smear a hand through the foggy condensation and stare into my reflection, but there are only my own wide blue eyes looking back at me. I touch my face, my lips, searching for some sign of anything alien.

But there is only me. Was that a dream? Another memory surfacing? Or…is it possible it was something else entirely?

* * *

A realization is creeping up on me.

The memories I’ve uncovered…the nightmares…the nosebleeds. That piece of paper under the bed. The music I hear sometimes in the middle of the night. Thecoldin this house, something deeper than a winter chill.

I’ve been writing off these odd coincidences as side effects of my burgeoning abilities. But what if there’s something else at work here?

What if there has been something else in the house with me this entire time?

Ezra mentioned that people with abilities like ours attract attention from spirits. It’s probably what drew Dorian to me in the first place when we were both young. So, then, is it possible he wasn’t the only thing haunting this house? Could there be another spirit? Maybe more than one?

Goose bumps prickle over me. That thought fills me with such cold dread that I have an urge to flee the house and never return. I can think of few things more horrible than looking into a mirror one day and seeing the ghostly visage of my father looming over my shoulder, or my mother’s pale, cruel hands reaching toward me.

But whatever just happened in the bathroom wasn’t one of them. So how do I find out who it is?

Back when I was a child, Dorian reached out to me on his own. But this time, I may have to be the one who makes contact. I know little about the art of dealing with spirits, despite my background and my abilities. I’m certain I could ask Ezra, but I’m not sure I’m ready to invite any follow-up questions from him quite yet. I’ve already asked so much of him, anyway. If I’m certain that a ghost is here, I’ll ask him for assistance in dealing with that—and laying them to rest. But this is a shot in the dark, and there’s no sense in wasting his time and making him question my sanity any more than he surely already has.

So I’m forced to resort to a quick internet search and a trip to a local store.

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