Chapter 35
We’re lounging on the bed, my head on Phantom’s bare chest, their fingers playing in my sex-mussed hair, when we hear a loud rapping at the door.
Once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Phantom is up and on their feet in a second, throwing on the nearest hoodie.
They grab a palette knife off the table and walk over to the door.
“Open up, or I’m breaking down the door!” an angry voice says from the other side of the door.
Why does that voice sound familiar?
My gaze locks with Phantom for a moment before the rusty metal door comes flying off its hinges. Instinctively, I scream.
Phantom is on the intruder in a heartbeat, their arm wrapped around their neck, the palette knife held against the vulnerable skin there.
It’s not sharp enough to cut, but with enough force, it could puncture, and potentially be lethal.
But I’ll never let Phantom feel like that again, like their life is in mortal danger.
Amidst the commotion, it takes me a moment to process my fear, and come to realize who the intruder is.
“Noah?” I ask, climbing off the bed and running to them. “What are you doing here?”
“Maeve,” they choke out over their crushed windpipe.
“Phantom, loosen your grip,” I urge.
They shake their head. “He just broke down our door. No way.”
“He can have you on your ass in a second,” I cry.
Noah’s eyes whirl wildly as they take in the absolute disaster that is the studio, but I’m focused on Phantom. I shoot them a piercing glare until they finally relent, releasing their grip.
Noah bends over, placing his hands on his knees as he draws in a large gulp of air.
“Maeve, what have you been doing? Your parents are freaking out. They’re getting the cops involved, filing a missing person’s report.
” His eyes are wide as the ocean, sending my pulse skittering into a panic.
And he’s cut his hair since we last spoke.
Since we broke up. Just a few days ago. Has it only been a few days? Wait? How long has it been?
“How long have we been here?” I ask Phantom.
“Just a few days.”
Noah’s eyes narrow as he says, “You haven’t answered your phone since your dad dropped you back at school on Friday. You’ve been MIA for four whole days, Maeve.”
I gasp. Shit. I hadn’t realized.
“Do we even have my phone?” I ask Phantom.
They nod. “It was in your pocket, but I took it out. It’s on the shelf by the door.”
I run to retrieve it. “Shit, it’s dead.”
I look to Noah again. “How did you even find me?”
“We’re still sharing our locations. The app shows the last location you were at before your battery dies. I knew I’d be able to find you faster than the police.” His brow pinches as he assesses me. “Maeve, why didn’t you know where your phone was? Why did you have to ask this ugly bastard?”
A mixture of hurt, fear, and anger flashes across Phantom’s face.
In a dark tone, I warn Noah, “Don’t you dare speak about them that way.”
“You’re joking,” he says with a laugh. “This is the guy? The one you left me for?”
“Phantom isn’t a ‘guy,’” I snarl. “And you’re the only one here being a bastard at the moment, Noah.”
The corner of Phantom’s lips curls up appreciatively.
Exasperated, Noah says, “They were the one holding that thing against my neck.”
“It’s just a palette knife,” Phantom says before tossing it on the floor with a clink.
My patience is wearing thin, so I snap and yell, “You broke down the fucking door, Noah!”
“To rescue you,” he yells back.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Who said I needed rescuing?”
“God, Maeve! Look around! Look at this place you’re in!” Noah gestures to the room with swinging arms. “It has crazy written all over it!”
Phantom swallows hard, backing away a step.
“Ever since you met this—Phantom, was it? God, that’s weird.
Ever since you’ve met them, you haven’t been acting like yourself.
You’ve been drawing away from your family, and your new friends.
They’re so worried about you, Maeve. Iris and Emmy.
Even those pretentious art guys. I went by your dorm and talked to them before I came here. ”
I don’t look at Noah as he speaks. I only look at Phantom.
Echo.
She’s feeding off of Noah’s negative energy, whispering lies in Phantom’s ear. I can see it in the haunted expression on their face. I have to stop her.
I rush to Phantom, shouldering past Noah. “Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to Noah. He’s lying. I’ve never been happier. I’ll explain everything to my family and my friends, and it’ll be fine. We’re okay.” I pull their forehead down to meet mine. “We’re better than fine.”
Phantom’s shaking beneath my grip, their eyes stretched wide in fear.
No no no no no. Not right now.
I turn Phantom’s face toward our painting. “That’s the truth, Phantom. That. Right there. Us.”
When Phantom’s gaze returns to me it’s more relaxed, until they look beyond my shoulder and their face contorts into a look of horror. I whirl around, terrified of what I’ll find.
It’s Noah. Holding a photograph of me he must’ve picked up off of the floor. From this distance, it looks something like a surveillance photo. From before I’d even met Phantom. From before I’d even come to Lizbeth. From back home, months and months ago.
When Noah’s eyes rise to us, they’re full of a rage I’ve never seen in them before.
“This photo was taken last semester, when she was still at home,” Noah growls accusingly, looking between us. “You were stalking her, weren’t you? And now this is some Stockholm syndrome bullshit.”
“Shut your mouth, Noah,” I cry. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then how do you explain this?” he asks, bending to pick up a fistful of other photographs just like the first. “And this?” he continues, gesturing to the destroyed studio. “And them?” he finally finishes, pointing at Phantom.
I step between them, as if I could physically block Phantom from Noah’s words, but I can’t.
Just like I can’t deny how it must look through Noah’s eyes.
I’m sure it does look crazy. Because it is crazy.
And we can’t deny anything Noah’s accusing Phantom of right now.
Those photos prove that Phantom did stalk me before I came to Lizbeth.
And mere days ago, they took my phone away from me and held me here against my will.
My feelings for them can’t absolve Phantom of those actions.
My heart races as the gravity of our situation suddenly comes crashing down around me.
As evenly as I can, I say, “Noah, I need you to go.”
He smacks the photographs down on the table. “Fat fucking chance. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Then just wait outside,” I implore him. “I’ll be right out and then we can call my parents and go see my friends.”
“I’m not leaving you with this maniac,” he says harshly, throwing a scathing look over my shoulder.
I turn to find Phantom whispering to Echo under their breath, the heels of their palms pressed firmly against their eyelids.
But, of course, to Noah it looks like they’re talking to themself, because, well, I guess in a way they are. It definitely doesn’t look good.
My voice is colder than it’s ever been. “Noah, I swear to God, if you don’t leave right this second. I’ll never forgive you.”
“You can hate me for eternity, Maeve,” he scoffs. “You’ve already left me. I’m not here to win you back. I’m here to protect you from them.”
“I don’t need protection,” I scream before walking back to Phantom. I wrap them in my arms and gently drag them to the floor. I rock them back and forth, humming the happy melody of the song we danced to so joyously just an hour ago.
I’m kissing the crown of Phantom’s head when Noah grabs me by the arm and hauls me up.
“Let me go,” I yell, flailing my arms. They get too close to Phantom’s face.
I see the moment the trauma response is triggered.
They’ve been slapped and punched too many times in their life to let it happen again.
Phantom’s arm whips out in retaliation. The sting the palm of their hand leaves behind on my cheek makes my eyes water instantly. And instantly, I forgive them.
Struggling against Noah’s grasp, I try to get to Phantom as they call, “I’m so sorry, Maeve.” But Noah is strong. His arms are clamped around me like a vice.
“They’re fucking hurting you, Maeve,” Noah roars in my ear. “They just slapped you! Why are you trying to get back to them?”
“You don’t understand,” I try to explain through a cascade of tears. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just . . . Let. Me. Go!”
But even as the words leave my lips, I watch Phantom’s resolve flicker out like a snuffed candle. They’re giving up.
“No,” I scream, choking on the words. “Don’t you give up, Phantom. Don’t you give up on me, on yourself. We’re partners in this. I’m still fighting! Fight with me! Don’t leave me alone.”
I get it now, and even though it doesn’t justify their actions, not by a long shot, it helps me understand. This must be what it felt like for me to pull away from Phantom. It feels like abandonment. It’s unbearable.
Dragging me toward the door, Noah says, “We’re getting the hell out of here and I’m calling the cops.”
Phantom’s shoulders sag as they just stand there, watching.
I wail, “No! Phantom, please. Don’t let him take me away. Phantom!”
Their eyes, those eyes that have seen every part of me, say more than words ever could.
I ram my elbow back against Noah’s ribs, as hard as I can. He cries out in pain as I run back to Phantom, my lips crashing against theirs. They sob against my lips as they lace their fingers behind my neck and hold me to them like I’m a life raft and they’re lost at sea.
There they are.
My muse. My other half. My partner. They’re still there.
“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you,” I whisper over and over between kisses.
But then Phantom pushes me away gently. “You have to go.”
“What?” My chest explodes in a pain I’ve never felt before. It sears.
“You have to go with him.”
Clutching their hoodie in my fists, I protest, adamant, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Maeve,” they say softly, tucking a tuft of loose hair behind my ear. “Everything he’s said is right. I’m hurting you. I’m interrupting your life. I’m using art to make you feel things maybe you otherwise wouldn’t.”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare invalidate my feelings for you!”
“What kind of relationship starts off that way ours did, with lies, manipulation, abduction? This isn’t healthy, Maeve. I’m not good for you. I’m—”
“You’re not toxic,” I bellow.
I’m losing control. They’re slipping between my fingers like smoke.
Noah’s hurried words come from behind us. “Hello, 911? I need immediate assistance at—”
More pain. More burning. I can’t breathe. It feels like my chest’s cracking right down the center. I turn to Noah and plow into him, pushing him up against the wall. He rams into it with a heavy thud but keeps talking to the police dispatcher.
The cops are coming. There’s no stopping it now. I have to hide the evidence. That’s the only solution.
I rush to grab the stack of photographs, planning to burn them or flush them, whatever it takes to make them disappear, but Phantom stops me halfway there. “Leave it.”
“But—”
I stare into the determined set of their eyes. “It’s long past time that I paid for my sins, Maeve.”
Over the scorching pain in the back of my throat, I say, “You’re giving up.”
“No,” they whisper. “I’m finally taking responsibility, like you said.” They glance back at our painting, our masterpiece, letting their eyes linger there for a moment before returning their gaze to me.
“Thank you for giving me the happiest days of my life.” They kiss me once more, slow and tender. When they pull away, their red-rimmed eyes memorizing me, a final word leaves their scarred lips. “Stunning.”
Then, I feel it. Their love. In that word.
The word they’ve spoken to me time and time again.
And in this sacrifice. Even as I reject it with every fiber of my being, I feel it.
It feels like how our painting makes me feel.
How every glance Phantom’s ever given me has made me feel. Seen. Understood. Loved.
It’s then I realize. They’ve known how to love the whole time. I’ve been loved long before I first read that anonymous comment. Phantom had just forgotten how it felt, to give their heart to someone they trust, but there it was, being given all the same. Their love.
I scream as Noah hauls me away. I grasp the door frame, trying to get free with every ounce of my strength, but my muscles fail me. My fingers slip off the cold metal and I glance at Phantom for what I fear is the last time. In my periphery, red and blue police lights flicker.
“It’s okay,” Phantom mouths. “Go.”