Chapter 19 - Cyrus
CYRUS
Asharp inhale comes from behind me, breaking the silence of the hallway. I freeze, and for a moment, I forget I’m the one who’s a ghost here, fearing one may share this dark space with me instead.
“Cyrus?” Roux’s quivering voice floats through the darkness. “Is that you?”
Panic consumes me, rendering me completely unsure of what to do with myself. She can see me. Worse yet, she recognizes me. I feel trapped, obligated to respond instead of trying to fade away.
I whirl to face her, wondering if it’s too late to flee. My feet stay stuck to the floor. Her eyes enlarge, color draining from her fallen face and slack jaw. I could run, speed straight through her down the narrow passageway, escaping without further interaction.
“It is you,” she says breathlessly, full of wonder more than fear. “What are you doing here?”
“Boo!” I joke half-heartedly, shrugging my shoulders. I look toward the front door longingly; I can still make a break for it.
Roux pretends to shake with fear, stifling a giggle and taking careful steps forward.
She cautiously reaches a hand out as she nears me, and I instinctively take a step back.
Her arm reaches again, and I push it away.
My fingertips brush against her skin, and Roux yanks her arm to her chest, cradling it.
Her eyes, full of hurt and surprise, flicker from me to her arm then back again.
“So weird,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head.
She stares at me, eyes sharpening as they rake over me, full of questions. “Wait, did you just leave Jace’s room?”
“Guilty,” I confess, turning my head away to avoid her burning gaze. What just happened between me and Jace suddenly seems wrong, souring from a third person possibly realizing what we’ve done.
“What were you doin’ in there?” Her eyes narrow further, judging me like she knows exactly what I was doing.
Discomfort crawls under my skin as she continues silently analyzing me.
Roux doesn’t seem to be scared or apprehensive about the fact that I’m dead, a ghost standing right in front of her.
“What are you doin’ here at all? Shouldn’t you be hauntin’ your daddy’s house or somethin’? ”
“Geez, Roux. Always askin’ the tough questions, huh?” The words tumble out in frustration, almost angry we’re having a seemingly normal conversation. “You can see me?”
“Well, yeah. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” She laughs, waving her hands in the air between us. “Unless I’m just havin’ a weird dream, but I’m pretty sure I’m not.” She pinches herself then points to the red spot. “Nope, see? Not dreaming.”
“I…” I’m lost for words. In the last two years, no one has seen me so clearly, let alone had a full-blown conversation with me. “I…I don’t know. Aren’t you scared?”
“You’d think that,” she laughs, looking down and kicking a foot against the hardwood. She rolls her ankle in a slow circle, drawing invisible symbols on the floor. “But you’re not the first ghost I’ve seen, Cyrus. Quit dodging the question. What are you doin’ here?”
“I shoulda known, even in death, I couldn’t escape you and your questions,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. Her words are pointed—sharp, digging into me, twisting them around to extract the truth. She hasn’t changed one bit.
An uncomfortable feeling spools up inside me, twisting through my spine and tying my tongue into knots.
Holy shit, I’m actually nervous. I’m afraid whatever answer I give won’t be good enough, and she’ll ring the alarm, alerting the entire house to my presence—snitching on me the same way she did when we were kids.
Purely out of habit, I take a deep breath.
Air swirls through me, stinging the area where my lungs used to be.
“I saw her through the window a couple of nights ago and realized she was home,” I answer honestly, tilting my head back and groaning. I can’t believe I’m answering to Roux like she’s my mama. “I couldn’t just not see her, Roux.”
The admission hangs between us, suspended in tense silence.
The more I think about it, the angrier I become.
Why would she deny me this, knowing how I feel about Jace?
Roux continues staring, lifting an eyebrow.
Words of defense rise in my throat, justifications and reasonings I’m not sure will be enough or make sense to anyone except me.
“The last two years, I haven’t thought about anything except how I can make my old man’s life more miserable than he already makes it himself.
I honestly never thought I’d see Jace again.
But now I know she’s back, it feels like this is my only chance to try and make things right.
I need to explain to her I didn’t mean to leave her alone—I would never abandon her,” I ramble, rolling the palms of my hands over my jeans nervously.
“Does your pop know?” Roux questions, catching me off guard by the change in subject. I frown, waiting for her to lecture me as if she’s not eight years younger. She holds her hand out in front of her, motioning to me. “Does he know you’re like this?”
“Does he know I’m dead?” I growl, my eyes turning to slits. Roux’s face falls, and her mouth clicks shut. “He fucking should! He’s the one who murdered me and dragged the shell of my body out back to feed me to the hogs like leftovers!”
I can tell by the way her body goes limp and her eyes water that I’ve confirmed something. My words give meaning to a lingering suspicion she has buried inside her mind.
“Of course he fucking knows,” I add before she has a chance to regain her thoughts.
“I just…I just meant, does he know you’re still…around?” Her voice wavers, carrying off as her words fail her. Roux’s eyes search mine for a moment before falling to the floor.
“A ghost?” My tone softens, anger draining from me.
Yelling at Roux won’t calm the boiling rage inside me, won’t bring me back or get me closer to Jace.
In fact, it only succeeds in making me feel more like shit.
“He just assumes I’m another one of his drunken hallucinations, his guilt coming back to torment him. I doubt he realizes it’s actually me.”
“I’m so sorry, Cyrus,” Roux whimpers, reaching toward me to swirl her fingers against my ghostly form. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about,” I sigh, my back to the wall. I run my fingers through my hair, twirling the ends in front of my eyes. “Shit happens, you know, especially in our family.”
“Tell me about it. I guess none of us exactly won the paternal lottery.” She lets out an exasperated exhale and leans against the wall next to me.
“Oh yeah, I heard about what happened to yours,” I say cautiously, chancing a sideways look at her. “Second hand, of course. I put it together after listenin’ in on a few conversations my pop had.”
“Don’t be,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “He was an asshole, and from what I know about Mattie, she wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t have it comin’. Ya know?” I just hate how she ended up goin’ out. She deserved much better than the hand she was dealt.”
“We all did,” I say, shrugging before chuckling a little. “You’re the last one standing.” It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s a lot of truth in it. Out of all three of us cousins, Roux’s the only one still alive—and for that, I’m thankful. One of us deserves to live an actual life.
“And Jace,” she adds, looking towards the bedroom. Suddenly, like a light turning on after years of darkness, I realize she’s right. I’ve never thought about it before, since her family isn’t connected by blood or marriage, but her family was part of the Revelators all the same.
“And Jace,” I repeat back to her, nodding as I look down, not quite ready to meet Roux’s eyes again. “You think there’s some kind of curse?”
“Maybe,” Roux ponders, pursing her lips. “I guess I never really thought about it like that. Figured it’s just a lot of ‘what goes around, comes around’, only we’re payin’ the price for our parents’ sins.” She yawns loudly, rubbing her eyes and looking much younger than she is for just a moment.
“I found somethin’ strange in Jace’s room,” I admit, thinking of the picture with my face crossed out. “Our photos were taped on a piece of paper: mine, yours, Mattie’s...and Jace’s. Only mine and Mattie’s had big red exes over them. The date and our ages at the time of our deaths were there too.”
Roux tilts her head, breathing heavily through her nose. “What? Why would Jace have that?”
“She took a box outta the shed, had everything shoved under her bed. I don’t think she’s seen it yet,” I explain, leaving out the fact I know Jace hasn’t because I purposely hid it from her.
“What do you think it means?” she asks, yawning again.
“I don’t know, but you should get some sleep. I’ll try not to keep you awake all night, rattling chains and slamming doors.” I laugh, moving away from the bedroom door so she can get inside.
“Where will you go?” she asks, eyes full of concern, still glistening with a hint of tears.
“I’ll be around,” I promise, pressing one finger to the tip of her nose. She crinkles it like she’s about to sneeze and then swats my hand away playfully. I tilt my head toward the bedroom. “Don’t tell her. Please, Roux. Promise me.”
“Fine,” she groans, heading into the room. She looks back as she inches the door closed. “But you should. You left a lot of questions unanswered for her, Cyrus, and she deserves to know. If you care about her, you won’t be just another thing haunting her dreams.”
“Wait,” I beg, trying to push against the closing door. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Goodnight, Cyrus,” she whispers as the door clicks shut.