Page 103 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“I’m okay.” I used my sleeve to wipe at my eyes before smiling at him. “You play beautifully.”
“Thank you.” He placed the violin back in the case and grabbed my hand. “I have something for you as well, though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as remarkable.”
“You existing is the best gift of all,” I said, caressing his sharp jawline. “And I know I’ll love whatever you have for me.”
Theo pulled away and left the room. The fire crackled, and I watched the snow fall.
Carter would be coming over later. I’d gotten him a hoodie of his favorite anime and the complete collection ofThe Hardy Boysbooks. He wasn’t much of a reader, but I hoped he liked them. They were nostalgic if anything.
When Theo rematerialized, I jumped a little on the inside. He offered an apologetic smile before holding out a wrapped gift. It felt like some type of book as I tore off the paper.
“Your journal?” I asked, staring at the familiar binding once it was unwrapped.
“Yes. I feel silly now after giving it to you, but I hope you find use in it. Perhaps put it into one of your books. Truth is stranger than fiction, after all.”
“I love it,” I said, catching his chin and kissing him. “But it’s incomplete.”
“I know.” His brown eyes darkened, and his body flickered. “That’s why I wrote you the final chapter.”
“The final chapter?”
Right as I asked, I knew what he meant. It was finally time for me to know the truth. All at once, I felt sick to my stomach, eager, and terrified.
He nodded. “I just emailed it to you.” Shadows surfaced in his eyes. “It’s the story of how I was murdered.”
Chapter Nineteen
I waited until Carter left to read Theo’s chapter. The time with my friend had been nice and made me forget about the message sitting in my inbox. After he left, I knew it was time, though.
Sitting in my office, I stared at the notification in my email. I smiled when seeing Theo’s email address:GhostInTheManor.He was morbidly funny, clever, and the best thing that had ever happened to me.
I can’t lose him.
Now that I was this close to knowing how he died, I dreaded the truth. I didn’t want to read about his final moments, didn’t want to read about his fears or pain. Not my beautiful Theo with his bashful smiles, adorable laughs, and his love for books.
Because he wasn’t just a story anymore. He was the love of my life.
Before I could convince myself otherwise, I saved the document to my computer and clicked to open it. Multiple deep breaths and an internal battle later, I started reading…
George Blackwell was a cruel man.
For as long as I can remember, he’d always been as such. Nothing was ever good enough for him. I firmly believe it was his own self-hatred that drove him to be so wicked, as if he saw me as a reflection of himself and punished me because of it. With each punch and every kick to my body, he was beating his own demons.
And I was only the vessel.
When I left Harvey’s house that afternoon, I stumbled a little over the rocks in his driveway. I was still a bit intoxicated, you see, from all the scotch I’d drank when upset over seeing Harvey with Lillian. I chuckled at my clumsiness and continued home.
Father waited for me on the front porch.
“Where have you been?” he asked in a voice layered with suppressed rage.
I’d told him to bugger off earlier, and I would soon come to regret those words. It had strengthened his anger.
Not in the mood to deal with him, I moved past him and entered the manor, heading for the stairs.
He grabbed the back of my shirt and flung me against the wall. “I asked you a question, boy!”
It hurt, but for some reason I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop.
