Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
VII A HOLE IN MY CHEST
ELIJAH ENTERED THE HOUSE with the confidence that only men that never feared anything had. Spencer, on the other hand, had feared a lot of things. He entered the house—directly behind Elijah—like a guilty man being sent to the gallows to hang for his crimes.
His knobby knees knocked together, his pale fingers anxiously toyed with the leather strap of his messenger bag, and gnawed on his bottom lip.
"Darcy," Elijah called out, shutting the door with his ankle in a manner so casual that Spencer almost shivered. He tried to pretend that he couldn't hear the familiar click of the front door locking. "We've brought some people that we'd like you to meet," he shouted kindly, "They're here to help."
In the living room, a few room away, Darcy didn't draw her attention away from the wall she was staring at. She dragged her finger across the surface in patterns that she didn't fully recognizes—some looked like circles, some half-moon marks, and other unknown symbols—but either way, she didn't stop.
"Darcy," Elijah said, firmly.
There was nothing that Elijah hated more than being ignored so impolitely. Spencer could almost hear his teeth grinding together inside his mouth.
"She must be in the living room," Elijah said, more for the sake of Maisie and Mason, "It's just down the hallway."
"Lead the way, good sir," said Maisie.
They walked around the bend of the hallway, with uncomfortable silence lingering, and approached the living room. Darcy Newman had a certain scent—it was murky and sweet, with a hint of bitter undertones—it grew stronger the closer they got.
The boys knew that she wouldn't leave the spot. They theorized that she was going through the five stages of grief, mourning her own death: first denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and hopefully soon, acceptance.
Elijah placed his palm flat against the surface of the door and inhaled through his mouth. "It's Maisie and Mason Hollis," he said, "They're here to—"
"I don't care about guest," murmured Darcy softly, "I want to be left alone."
"Darcy," Elijah seethed.
Darcy mocked, "Elijah."
Maisie gasped—a quiet, airy sort of sound—that rumbled the room. When they finally entered the room, they saw Darcy. Just where they had left her. Maisie face pulled into a wide, shocked smile, that startled Spencer. So, she could see her, too?
"Wow," whispered Maisie.
Maisie had taken a careful step forward.
"She looks so—real," Maisie murmured, "I haven't seen a ghost like this before... Normally, they're blurry and hard to focus on. But this one—wow," she paused, "It's like she's really here."
