There it is, that we again.
My heart races. Does he mean we could be some sort of…what? Couple?
The last time I became a couple with someone, I almost died. And then he died.
I look for somewhere to go, but there isn’t anywhere. Dim light from the closed curtains filters into our small space, and the relentless feelings in my chest build.
I need to get out. To breathe.
I stalk to the bathroom, where I have to push Minky gently out of the way and shut the door.
In there, the feeling of being trapped builds. What am I doing? Playing house? As if that was ever a safe option.
Glancing in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my face. It’s haggard, with dark circles under my eyes even though all I do is lie in bed.
Then, there’s movement behind me in the shower.
It’s Arthur. He’s leaning against the shower wall, smirking.
Arthur. My heart races, jackhammering in my chest, and for a moment I want to run. What is Arthur doing here? He’s not here. He can’t be. He’s dead.
Arthur lunges for me.
I don’t think, I just turn around and throw a fist into his face.
Only, my fist doesn’t hit anything until it does, smashing into the shower wall with a bang. I whirl, looking for where he could have gone.
Arthur isn’t there.
“Are you okay?” Micah’s panicked voice asks.
I stare, heaving. Fuck this wall. Fuck this place. Fuck everything. I’m going crazy.
“Mads?” Micah is at the door now.
“Fine,” I say. I don’t want him to see me like this. Why does he care?
I turn to see Minky shivering on the other side of the room like he’s afraid of me. Grief punches me in the chest, and I drop to my knees.
“Mads, please, let me in,” Micah says. He’s pleading with a note of genuine terror in his voice, which spikes my heart rate. He’s not going to leave me alone.
Fine, fine, fucking fine. I rip the bathroom door open. “See! I’m fine.”
Micah steps inside. “Your hand.”
I glance down. My knuckles are split open.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
The worst thing is that there is genuine concern in his voice. I don’t deserve that concern.
Tears make my throat tight. Horrifying, weak tears.
“I thought I saw…” I stop myself. Because saying I saw Arthur will absolutely get me landed in the loony bin. And I’m not crazy.
At least, I don’t think I am.
“I’m fine,” I snap.