Chapter 33
You see, little Ghost? This was never going to end any other way.
I think I knew before I had words for it.
Before I could explain it to myself without sounding insane, even inside my own head.
There was always something off. Not necessarily broken or tragic, just wrong in a way that doesn’t fix itself, no matter how quiet you try to be about it.
It was always there and they saw it, every single one of them.
The looks, the way conversations shifted when I stepped into them, like I had dragged something in with me that didn’t belong there.
Freak. I’ve heard it more times than I can count.
Not always out loud though, sometimes it sat behind their teeth, but you can still hear it if you know what you’re listening for.
And the thing is, they weren’t wrong. That’s the part I didn’t want to admit for a long time.
I kept thinking it was them. Their misunderstanding, their inability to see me properly, but no. Because they saw enough, more than enough, actually. I was just… better at pretending it wasn’t there. You fit with me though.
See?
That’s the difference between them and you. They hesitated, and you didn't.
It’s subtle, almost nothing if you’re not paying attention, but I am, always, and you don’t pull away the same way they did, not really.
You might think you do, maybe lean back for a second, tell yourself you should, that this is where you draw a line, where you close the door and walk away like a normal person would. But you don’t.
You’re still here, still reading this, you let me keep talking and that’s all I need. You feel it too, don’t you?
That thing in your chest when I get a little too close, when it stops being just a story and starts sounding like I’m talking to you, not around you, not past you, to you.
There you are, little Ghost. I was wondering how long it would take before you leaned in again.
You do that. You come closer without meaning to.
You don’t even notice half the time, but I do.
I notice everything about you. You always come back to me.
Always.
Even when that little voice inside your head is telling you that you shouldn’t. And I think… I think something in you already knows why. You fit with me. I need you to say it out loud. No, don’t lie, just say it in your head if that’s easier. You.
Fit.
With.
Me.
It’s not a nice thought, is it? Because if that’s true, then what does that make you? Go on. Think about it, I’ll wait.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
You don’t get to stand on the outside and look at me like I’m something separate from you.
Not anymore. Not after everything you’ve stayed for.
You were fucking made for me. And I don’t mean it in some soft, pretty way people write about.
I mean in the way things lock into place whether they’re supposed to or not.
Like something that shouldn’t fit, but does anyway.
And once it does, you don’t pull it apart without damage.
I’ve got a hold on you, you can feel that, can’t you? Right there… it’s not control like you’re thinking. I’m not telling you what to do, you’re choosing this. That’s what makes it so much better. You choose to stay, you choose to listen, you choose me. And I don’t even have to touch you for it.
God, that’s… that’s almost unfair.
Because I don’t choose people, I don’t let them stay long enough for that.
You know that, you’ve seen it. Every time someone gets close enough to matter, something in me shifts.
That moment where it tips, where it’s either them or me.
And I don’t wait around to find out which one breaks first, so I leave.
Or I make sure there’s nothing left to come back to. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it has to be. Don’t look at me like that, little Ghost.
You think I wanted it to be like this?
You think I didn’t try?
I did, I actually did. The psychiatrist’s wife, Anna, you remember her.
I thought I could keep her out of it, keep things contained, keep Zwierek away from her if I just stayed ahead of it, just once.
I was careful in a way I’ve never been before.
I watched everything, every move and still it fucking slipped.
Because every time I hesitate, every time I try to be something softer than what I am, he’s already there.
Right behind it, waiting for me to fail, and then it’s gone.
She didn’t even see it coming, none of them ever do, and I’m left with nothing. Again. So don’t ask me why I don’t let people get close. Don’t sit there and think you would’ve done it differently, you wouldn’t, because you can’t.
I can’t.
You don’t know what it’s like to feel something in you that ruins everything it touches, no actually, that’s not true.
You do. That’s why you’re still here, that’s why you haven’t closed this, that’s why you’re letting me talk to you like this and not stopping me.
Because some fucked up part of you recognizes it. In me, in yourself.
I’m not going to pretend you’re innocent, but don’t worry, I like you better this way. So listen to me now, little Ghost, because this part matters.
I don’t make the same mistakes twice, not with you.
I won’t let anything touch you. Not him, not anything else.
You stay right here, where I can feel you, where I can keep you.
You don’t even realize how deep you’re in already, do you?
I’ve spent my whole fucking life running.
Not the kind you can see from the outside.
Not footsteps on pavement, nor doors slamming behind me like in some cheap story.
I learned early how to disappear without going anywhere, you know that.
As a kid, I ran straight into my own head and locked the door behind me.
I sat there for hours, days, just to not feel anything that was happening outside of it.
I got good at it, too good. People would talk to me and I’d nod, even smile sometimes, but I wasn’t there, not really.
Then I got older, and it changed. I didn’t hide anymore, I left.
Bartosz, Krystyna, every place that started to feel too real, too close, like it might actually touch something inside me.
I was already halfway out before they even realized I was gone.
Even him, my father, you saw it. I didn’t stay, I never stay.
Because staying means something gets in.
And when something gets in, it doesn’t survive.
So I run.
I always fucking run.
Except… you.
No. No, don’t look away now, you don’t get to do that. Not after everything you’ve let me say to you. Not after the way you keep leaning closer every time I pull you in. You… I don’t run from you, I don’t even try.
Do you understand how wrong that is?
How completely fucked that is for someone like me?
You should scare me. You should feel like every other warning sign I’ve learned to listen to, but you don’t.
You feel like something that was already there.
Like I didn’t notice you at first, and then suddenly you were everywhere at once.
Under my skin. Not metaphorically, I mean it.
It’s like you got in somehow and I can’t separate you from anything anymore.
Every thought I have bends around you without me even meaning it to.
Every time I try to focus on something else, you’re there anyway, sitting just underneath it, waiting.
Do you know what that does to someone like me?
Someone who’s built his whole life on distance?
You’ve taken that from me.
You’ve made it impossible to step back, I can’t put space between us, it doesn’t exist. You’re in my head, no, not just there, you’re deeper than that. It’s like you’ve threaded yourself through everything that keeps me functioning. Like if I tried to pull you out, I’d take half of myself with you.
You run through me, everywhere. My thoughts don’t move without touching you.
My pulse– fuck, even that feels wrong now, like it’s not just mine anymore.
Like you’re in it. Do you hear that? Right now.
If you were here, if I pulled your hand to my chest, right here, you’d feel it.
And I swear to you, it doesn’t feel like just a heartbeat.
It would feel like something trying to reach back for you.
You’ve got yourself wrapped so tight around me that I don’t even know where I end anymore.
And the worst part?
No, the best part. I don’t want to separate it.
I don’t want to go back to whatever I was before you got in.
Because this, this is the first time something has touched me without me needing to destroy it just to breathe again.
Do you understand what you’ve done? You didn’t just get close, you got inside.
And I let you. I fucking let you. That’s the part you should really be paying attention to, little Ghost. Because I don’t let anyone do that.
Ever.
But you, you didn’t ask. You just stayed around and somehow that was enough. So listen to me carefully now, because I mean this in a way I don’t mean anything else. I’ve run from everything. Everyone. My whole fucking life. But you? I’m not going anywhere. Not from you. Not ever.
Eyes.
On.
Me.
You don’t get to drift now, don’t you fucking dare do that soft little retreat thing you do when it gets too close.
Because this? This is where I stop holding anything back.
I don’t share, little Ghost. I don’t divide things into “mine” and “theirs” like it’s negotiable.
If something is mine, it stays that way.
And you… you’re not slipping through my fingers.
Not now, not later, not ever. I don’t care how this sounds to you.
Actually, no, that’s not true. I care that you feel it, I want you to feel it.
I want it to sit under your skin the same way you sit under mine, quiet and fucking impossible to ignore.
I will never let him near you.
Do you understand what I’m saying, or do I need to spell it out slower for you?
Zwierek doesn’t get you, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t even get to look in your direction.
I know exactly what he is. I know how he moves, how he waits, how he takes.
And I swear to you, I would tear him apart before I let him touch something that belongs to me. And you, little Ghost, you do.
Belong.
Don’t flinch at that, don’t pretend that word doesn’t hit somewhere it shouldn’t.
You’ve been walking toward it this whole time.
Every step, every time you didn’t close this and walk away like you should have.
You chose this, you chose me. So don’t act surprised when I treat you like you’re mine, because you are.
You’re mine to protect, mine to ruin. No one else gets that, no one else even comes close.
I would burn this whole fucking world down before I let anyone else put their hands on you, before I let anyone else leave a mark that isn’t mine.
Do you understand? Because I mean it in a way that doesn’t leave room for doubt.
There’s no version of this where I let you go.
You can try to pull back, you can tell yourself this is too much, too intense, too wrong, but you won’t leave.
You will always come back to me, and I’ll be right here when you do.
Exactly where you left me, waiting. Because I’ve got a hold on you and you feel it too.
So I suggest you make this easier for the both of us, and stay right there where I can reach you. Where I can keep you exactly like this, caught between wanting to run and knowing you won’t. With that being said, it’s time to get back to the story, little Ghost.