Page 47 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“Promise me something, Ben.” He reached for my hand but withdrew it before contact. “Promise me we’ll keep whatever this is between us just as it is right now. No more and no less. I can be your friend and nothing more. All I ask is that if you and Carterdodecide to be together…please don’t bring him here, for I could not bear it.”
So he felt the connection between us too. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but neither of us could deny it anymore. That didn’t make anything easier.
“I promise.” I stepped toward him. “It doesn’t have to be like this. If you want me, say it. Carter is a nice guy, but it’s you I want, Theo.”
He shook his head. “Stop, Ben. Please.”
“Why?” I ached to hold him.
“We aren’t right for each other,” he whispered. “Excuse me.”
He vanished and left me alone in the room.
***
Two days later, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, drying the earth from the constant rain. Theo and I had gone about our usual routine, though things felt off. Every time our eyes met, I felt like my chest was slowly being crushed, as if someone added a heavier rock again and again, until I was buried beneath them.
“You promised nothing would change,” Theo said Monday morning, as he caught me staring at him.
“I’m sorry.” I averted my eyes to my coffee. “I just don’t know how to act now.”
“Be yourself. That’s all I want, Ben.”
I couldn’t ignore the spike in my heartrate when he said my name.
Things with Carter had been weird too. I had called him yesterday to apologize, and he’d sounded way too chipper. Hiding the hurt beneath exaggerated happiness. It was exactly why I didn’t want anything romantic—or sexual—happening between us.
I didn’t want to lose my friend.
“I’ve placed my journal on your bed,” Theo said, snagging my attention. “It’s time for you to finish it. Then, perhaps, I can put the past behind me where it belongs.”
I finished my coffee and headed upstairs. He didn’t accompany me. I understood why he got nervous when I read it. I felt the same way about my own writing. When someone read my book for the first time, I felt nauseous. However, Theo’s book wasn’t just nonsense about monsters and gore. His was real life.Hislife.
I grabbed the journal off the bed before sinking into my reading chair.
The final entry was dated October 24th1917.
It must’ve been written only days before Theo was reported missing. I felt anxious. I wanted to know what happened, but I dreaded it too.
The handwriting wasn’t as clean as it had been throughout the rest of the journal, as if this entry had been scribbled in a rush.
Harvey’s married now. He has been for nearly a month. I shouldn’t be angry, but I can’t help it. It’s not fair!
Why should she be able to have him when I can’t? Why should our lives be governed by a book that was written so long ago?
My heart’s beating so hard, so fast, I wonder if it will beat right out of my chest. With the way it’s hurting, it’s a miracle it’s even beating at all. I’m shaking from anger, from sorrow, from the hand I’ve been dealt in life.
I can’t forget the sounds of his moans as he pushed inside of her.
I was a fool for going to visit him, but I was desperate, much like he’d been when he came to see me the night he begged me to run away with him. Christ! Why did I have to go see him? I went to his window as usual and pushed it open.
That’s when I saw them.
Harvey was between her legs, the sheet around his hips slipping down to show his naked backside, and he thrust forward. Over and over again. She clawed his back, the back Ihad clawed and kissed so many times, and she gasped her pleasure. The bed banged into the wall so hard, so fast.
And the sounds Harvey made, moaning and grunting. The ecstasy on his face as his body shuddered and he came deep inside her.
I felt sick. I still do.
