Daisy's POV
Don't give in. Don't even think about going easy on him. I mentally chant as we face off. His two words, laced with absolute honesty, were enough to wipe away the worst of what happened a little while ago. I can bet that if I were alive, my heartbeat would have been through the roof from all this happiness I am feeling. Because in this moment, beneath all the anger and coldness, I can only think of one thing. He's back.
"After what you said, I really doubt the truth of that statement." I speak up and am surprised at how natural my anger sounds. It seems that not all of my anger was wiped away. "And don't bother trying to explain yourself. There's nothing to say." Though I really want you to. "Honestly, I don't think I even want to bother with you ever again. So goodbye, Nick Demming Peters." With that I use whatever power still remains in me and somehow manage to lift him up in the air.
He yelps in surprise as his feet leave the ground and then is dragged towards the main door which is now open. I walk with him to the top of the staircase and then he is being lowered down towards the exit. He struggles but since I even muted him temporarily, he can't do anything. I watch him leave sadly, wanting him to stay but knowing he doesn't deserve a second chance after all that happened.
And that's when my powers fail me again. One second he's in the air above the couch and in the next, he's sitting on it as my spell dissipated. Neither of us speak as we stare at each other from the couch to the top of the staircase and back. And then I hear the house creak once again. I feel my face contract and I curse myself for letting emotion show, even if to him. I have no idea how but it feels like he's by my side in the next second. Before he can touch, my solid form fails and I'm invisible again. It doesn't stop him from forming an embrace around where I'm supposed to be, though the circle is obviously way too large. "I did not return for a second chance, Daisy McCain. I only returned to let have your forever. There was never a true hope for us but there is a chance for you to be free. I want you to be able to return to your family." He's certainly pushing every button that needs to be pushed. Though an invisible tear falls down, it finds no other joining in the descent as I finally get my emotions in control.
After making sure that my voice would be stable, I speak. "First of all, back off a little. I need some space to feel comfortable right now. And secondly, exactly how do you plan to do this?" He does move back but only gives me a shrug in response. Instantly, my annoyance peaks from nothing to unbelievable. I placed all this faith in a shrug?!
He smiles, oh the nerve of this boy, on seeing my expression – oh wait, I'm invisible. "What are you smiling about?" The tone makes it clear that this is no time for jokes. His smile somehow grows even bigger and I have all the confirmation I need that this is about me. "Tell me!"
"Well, having spent the last few hours with you gave me a pretty good idea of your reactions and it isn't hard to know your reaction in those uncharacteristic silence on seeing my shrug. And my imagination produced a result that would probably matches the real expression you had, which undoubtedly was funny." Nick explained and after taking a second to get all that he implied, I frowned at him with my hands at my hips. He frowned back at me in response with his hands at his hips as well and the expression was so like me that my eyes instantly drifted to see if I was visible. I wasn't. Oh my god, he really did get me right!
Still, truth wasn't an option. "That's so not me, you know." I spoke as I dropped the pose before I turned visible and my lie was exposed. "And for someone who has only spent a few hours with me, you sure think you know a lot about me." He dropped the pose – thankfully because that was unnerving – and then smiled at me.
"I have a suspicion that you just lied to me about the pose. As for thinking about knowing you? If one got the source so beautiful and expressive like you, it would be hard to not notice your every movement." He spoke and as soon as he finished, a smile broke out on my face. Then all of his words penetrated and the smile was a memory of spring during the middle of winter.
"My tears are beautiful to you? My anger is expressive to you?" I shriek. "Get away from me, you creep!" I shout at him and then run down the stairs, or perhaps I should say I glided down them noiselessly. I was glad for this because I didn't want him, or even me for that matter, running on these unreliable stairs. It's great that I can fly –
My mental commentary stops short as the power of flying fails me and I fall onto the edge of a step, about to topple downwards. Good thing is that I'm dead, I think and then add, but it still is going to hurt. What happens next occurs in milliseconds. I turn visible and Nick immediately shouts my name as he sees me about to fall. As if knowing that he won't be able to save me if he's slow AND he won't be able to save himself from slipping if he runs – while forgetting I'm dead and won't really be hurt – he runs to grab me and pulls me towards him even as he runs towards me. And as soon as he touches me, he ducks and sits down on the stairs. And then we slip down the fourteen stairs together.
I don't intend to sound uncaring but the situation and his repeated 'oof!' just bring out the giggles in me that don't pause even when we stop at the bottom of the jerking ride. And while I remain unharmed, I have no doubt that his derriere is quite punished. Next moment, I am sad that this happened unintentionally and I didn't come up with such a punishment. Delivering it would have been fun! And the mind's imagination of a repeat performance of the scene sets off another round of giggles.
"No wonder people rarely want to be gentlemen these days." Nick complained while I moved off of him. "Abuses are all I am getting from one of that era. Tell me, were all of you girls like this? So reckless and then when in danger, mocking the one who risked himself to save you while you were being saved?"
The giggles stop almost immediately. "What did you just say? Did you call me reckless? And I mock the one who risked himself to save me while I was being saved?" I nearly snarl at him. "Tell me, Nick, is it my fault that you forgot that I'm dead and can't really be hurt?" Sadly, it seems he did because his mouth is left hanging open on hearing my statement. "You're hopeless." I shake my head at him. Before turning around and walking away, I add. "Thanks though."
I proceed to the blanket that still is on the ground from the moment it was kept there for our pretend-date, though it is clear now that nothing of it was a pretend for either of us. I sit down on it, close my eyes and hear rather than see Nick following suit. For a moment, there's no sound made by either of us and we both hear only the strange silence of the dead house. The vacuum makes a tiny whistling sound that can only be noticed if paid attention to. I know when Nick notices it only moments later when I hear his clothes crinkle while he looks around to identify the direction of the source of sound. "Is it the mice I hear now?" He speaks and I pause for a moment to check if I missed that sound.
"Thankfully, no." I tell him upon finding no sound from the mice. "Though it is surprising how that many mice ended up in the basement and manage to remain quiet. No, the whistling sound that I can hear is from the broken plumbing. Kind of gives the place a spooky feel no? Perfect to suit my presence in this haunted house." Less than a moment passes before I break the silence again. "Though I do wish it was something more pleasant than whistling. Or at least more entertaining."
Nick has no reply to that and I internally smile, knowing that coming up with a response to that type of statement is very difficult. What one says in such cases, I wonder. Do they risk sounding flippant of your situation by saying 'if not this place then what would you have rather haunted?' Because no one chooses to stay for fun. Or do they sound weirdly helpful with a 'do you want me to look at it?' Because that just sounds creepy. A loud exhale snaps me out of these odd thoughts and I focus on Nick. Specifically on what he said he was back for.
"So," I ask him. "Have you come up with any idea of why I'm still here?" He doesn't react to my words at all, as if he didn't hear them. He still looks unnerved by the whistling. I note this as I try to think of something to distract him from the noise. Giving up almost immediately, I choose the obvious route. SLAP!
"Ouch!" He yells. "What was that for?" He rubs his slapped left cheek while looking at me in some anger and confusion. That anger would be probably better used if this dog had some bite along with the bark, I think, though it is nice that there isn't any.
"Next time when someone speaks," I speak haughtily, as if what I had just spoken could have cured world hunger. "Pay attention. Now, do you have any sort of explanation for why I'm still here?"
He goes quiet again and I raise my hand again, conspicuously doing it so that he notices. Good for him, he does. "Let me think, for goodness' sake! This isn't a simple yes or no question. If you really are feeling such impatience, then how about you think as well of a reason why you are still here?"
I feel my eyes narrow at him. Did he just tell me off? Before I can get worked up on that, he speaks up. "Well, two minds are better than one. So let's see what we come up with." He speaks before starting to explain. "I'm going to say what I've come up with. I need you to add or counter, as per requirement." I nod when he pauses to look at me expectantly. What am I? A five year old? Of course I got that!
"You had a choice to leave but you didn't." Duh! "Though we have no means of confirming, we can presume that this choice wasn't just limited to you, though none have ever taken it." As far as we know. Boring! I mentally comment. "So you stayed and the reason for this was your family and friends and are you high on something ghostly?" I am nodding until I realize what he finished with.
I shriek. "What did you just say?" He is looking at me with a strange puzzled expression.
"I asked you if you are high on something. You know, intoxicated by some narcotic substance." He waits for a beat before continuing. "Because since I have come back into the house, you have been behaving oddly. So many mood swings, such indifference to something that would be obviously beneficial to you, and all those faces you have been making... they all point to substance abuse. So I have to ask you, are you high?" Then something seems to come to his mind. "Um, do even ghost girls have... uh, that time of the month?"
If I were alive, I would have been mistakable for a tomato at that question. No matter what year you lived in, no one ever had the right to ask that question. My response to such an embarrassing and offending question is to have a block of wood from the ruins of what was once eastern parlour of the house fall on his head. "That's all I am saying on that matter." My voice sounds strangled as he lets out an 'ow!' and I clear my throat to continue. "And I'm not high. All these signs of disinterest are simply signs that I have absolutely no trust in your success. Don't get too presumptuous."
"Oh ye of little faith, give it all to me." Nick says in a grave tone that sounds absolutely silly and somewhat pacifying. "I meant no offense with any of my questions. Now let's continue then."
"Ok, so we have you staying here because of your friends and family. Then Samuel came back. Your murdered got caught. Samuel died. George remarried. George left. Your father died. George died. And everyone you stayed for is now dead. Am I right?" Seeing my shocked look, he apologizes. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. I didn't mean to sound so uncaring."
"Apology not accepted. But yeah, you're right. Carry on." I say in a tone that shows how much I'm still shocked at his words. Even my mind can't come up with some comment to distract me from the seriousness of this moment.
"I really am sorry for that, Daisy." He repeats the apology but then he continues. "So that means the reason you didn't leave initially was later gone. In simpler terms, your anchor was now gone. But you clearly didn't leave. So obviously that means something new now binds you here."
"Do you have even believe in what you are babbling?" I ask him when he takes a moment to catch up on breath. I must be getting used to his 'just try guessing' approach because when he hesitantly shakes his head in a no, I am only amused. Anger doesn't really strike. "Go on, then."
He is surprised by my lack of anger, so much that he stutters initially. Guess he was making his excuses ready, no? Then, after a moment of composing himself, he continues. "As I said, something else now binds you here. After having my mind let loose, I can only think of asking you about this. What is your prized possession? The one thing that you just can't let go of?" He's barely finished the question before his eyes go wide and we both recognize what he's talking about. And now, the anger's here.
"Don't you even think about doing something to it!" I hiss in anger at him and instantly move to my room, locking it from inside and holding the ring close to me. I carefully cradle the ring, feeling all my moments with Samuel embedded in it, and gently whisper through my clogged throat.
"I love you Samuel and I will never let you go."