Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bella
I hate being back here; I know the calmness that seeps into me is from Latham as they move around my house, looking in each room.
I can't see what they are looking at, but I can remember just fine.
This place has haunted me for years and is the reason I never returned here.
Sure, I have a few good memories, but most are overshadowed by me being locked back in my room again with the thing hovering and watching over me.
The moment I walk out the back, though, and stare out at the concrete slab, I freeze.
My sister is under that slab, her body forever trapped in this dreadful place.
Guilt rushes through me. We used to be close once; she used to be my safe place, yet I find it impossible ever to feel safe anymore.
Arms wrap around my waist, not expecting anyone to come up behind me.
I jump, startled, before Blaine's breath moves across my neck below my ear.
"Nothing can touch you with us around, Bella," Blaine whispers below my ear, and I feel myself relax against him.
It’s not that I am worried about anything hurting me physically, but I know the risk of coming here, dragging things back to the surface. I don't want to remember this time of my life, don't want to remember because I don't want to think about what could have been.
What if it never happened? Would my father have gone through with it?
I know he would have, but some part of me still longs for my family, or rather my mother and sister. Being back here, I realize how truly alone I have always been.
Lips press to my shoulder, and I turn my face to look up at Blaine.
"Is that where Isobella is?" he asks, and I nod.
That concrete slab is where I am trapped, too; the person I used to be died the day my sister did and is buried with her. A part of me will always remain trapped here.
"Where is Latham?"
"It doesn't matter. You don't need to worry about what he is doing."
"Well, saying that now makes me more curious," I admit.
Blaine sighs deeply, and I move in his arms, turning and wrapping my arms around his waist. I rest my head on his chest, and I feel his hand move into my hair before he starts to massage my scalp gently with his fingers.
"Latham is going over the events of the night before you left. He is watching what happened the night you killed them."
I nod against his chest. "Does he not believe me?"
"Of course he does, but some things don't add up. Latham is positive he can sense a demonic presence, but…"
Blaine pauses, and I look up at him. He kisses my nose before cupping my face with his hand.
"Xavier and I can sense something, but we don't think it is demonic."
"What do you mean?"
"I am worried you may take it the wrong way."
My brows furrow in confusion, and Blaine reaches over and smooths the line between them. I glance at him.
"You think I am crazy."
"No, poltergeists are conjured by fear, not an actual presence, just one of energy. Latham just wants to make sure. He is stronger than us, a lot stronger, Bella. If a demon was here, he would find something to prove it."
"And if I was crazy?"
"You would still be ours," Blaine answers without hesitation.
I glance over my shoulder to find Latham watching me, feeling that someone is behind me.
"So what is the verdict? Am I crazy?"
"Aren't we all a little crazy?" Latham offers, and my face drops.
"So am I?"
"No, I still have the same feeling. Something is amiss. I can sense him. It is odd, though, I sensed him strongest in your parents’ room," Latham says thoughtfully, glancing toward the windows.
His eyes move to the slab of concrete my sister is covered by. He tilts his head to the side, and he stares at it like he is examining it.
"What is it?" Xavier asks as he walks out of the back door toward us.
Latham looks behind him at Xavier, and Blaine suddenly lets me go.
He walks over to the slab of concrete and places his hand on it before looking back at Latham, who in turn walks over to it.
He walks across it, and I cringe, knowing he is standing on her grave.
He stops directly over where her body is.
"Right here?" he asks, and I nod to him.
Latham looks at Blaine, and I stare between them. They appear to be having some silent conversation conveyed in facial expressions. I can still remember her dead body, the coldness of her skin, and the rigidness of her body as I tried to hide her.
"Yes, that is where she is," I answer, looking away, unable to get the picture of her dead body out of my head.
"Was, that is where she was," Latham murmurs, and I look back at him.
Latham stands up, looking at the ground before scratching his chin. "Her body is no longer here, Arabella."