Come Out, Come Out (Haunted Hearts)

by Alexia Onyx

“I’m coming, I-” “Aiden. My name’s Aiden.” I need to hear her say it, needed her to know something more about me. “Fuck, Aiden, I’m coming.”

“Does that feel good, Aiden?” She stops to look up at me and I nod in response. “Use your words,” she taunts as she tightens her fist. “Careful, little wraith,” I warn with an arched brow.

I latch my hand around her wrist and lead her through the dimly lit basement, back over to that work bench. It’s littered with tools and my gaze homes in on the saw. I move us so we’re directly in front of it. “Aiden . . .” she says hesitantly, her voice shaking with uncertainty, but she doesn’t even try to pull away.

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?”

We both sigh gratefully, but the peace doesn’t last long before I slam into her and force her neck closer to the jagged blade of the saw. Skye’s gasp is one of terror and pleasure as she clenches around me. I don’t slow down, pumping into her continuously as her head hovers over the viciously sharp tool. With each pass, she shudders beneath me. My hold on her remains firm, keeping her throat angled upward and steadily positioned several inches above it.

Skye tilts her head, assessing me. “What’s with the tattoo.” She points to the one on my neck that says ‘GONER’. “Umm . . .” I rub my fingers across it. “I got it when I turned eighteen. It was kind of a fuck-you to the kids who used to bully me back in school. They’d always tell me I was a goner, so I decided to own it.”

“You’re not too difficult. Fuck her.” A sad smile tips her matte-black lips that have been restored to perfection. “You don’t know me.” “I understand you better than you think, Skye. Anyone who tells you that you’re too much doesn’t deserve you.”

Curious, I look at my phone’s calendar to see when the last time I took it was. I scroll back up to March and look for one of the few dots on my very empty schedule. There it is: Friday, March 13th. Interesting. I go back to my lock screen and realize he’s once again come to see me on a Friday the 13th. That’s a really weird coincidence. My stomach tightens with unease as I google Friday the 13th’s significance.

I’ve spent my entire life telling myself I’m happier alone because the alternative would break me into a million pieces. Accepting that everyone I’ve ever opened up to decided I was too hard to love would break me in a way I could not recover from. Instead, I tell myself I’m happier this way—alone and out of the way.

Felt

Her eyes flick up to the mirror as she stops mid-lotion when I get to “y.” I can hear her swallow thickly and I don’t miss the chills that erupt over her exposed flesh. I stop, standing absolutely still and leaving the letter incomplete. The tail is short, but there’s no mistaking that it says “Stay.”

“What—” Her uneven voice is barely above a whisper, but I’m close enough to hear. “What do you want?” A single tear slips free, and she clutches her tucked towel to her chest. Everything. I respond, but despite our proximity, she can’t hear me. Instead of waiting for a reply, I write the same word again. She shakes her head and it might as well be a physical blow. I move over to the right, where there’s still undisturbed steam on the mirror. I move my finger quickly across the wet glass and write the word “Please”.

This is my chance. I bring my finger to the mirror again and write, “I won’t hurt you.” I pause then add, “I’m sorry.” Skye’s large brown eyes widen in disbelief, but her hand slowly falls from her mouth, revealing reddened lips she’s clearly been biting to hold back her terror.

If I had a beating heart, it would have stopped. The breath would have stilled in my chest. Instead, I become rigid and try to keep the hope at bay. “Please, please, please, please . . .” I chant in my head.

The letters she draws on the mirror below mine are uneven. “Why?” “Because I want you to” is what I really want to say; it won’t do. Instead, I appeal to something I know she’ll relate to. I write back, “I’m lonely”.

“Not so fast, little wraith. Nobody else gets to make you come.” The memory of Aiden’s voice in my head shatters the illusion altogether. That incessant fucking asshole. I sigh down at my barely touched food that’s gone cold. So, this is how it’s going to be?

I regretfully twist the wand a few times to open the blinds and squint against the bright sun. Another glorious morning . . .

Skye reshaped me. Watching her was like a life raft that pulled me in from being adrift at sea. Loving her gave me purpose, made me someone again. Without her, I’m no one. Floating aimlessly.

I decide to spend this first day off in bed. I’m indulging myself in a movie marathon. More specifically, a horror movie marathon.

Binx is pleased with my plans for the day as he curls up at my feet and I turn on the first movie of the day, Jennifer’s Body, the bisexual spooky girl essential. I first fell for Megan Fox when she was in Holiday In the Sun and there was really no going back. I take a sip of my mimosa before lighting up a joint.

No because literally same

Instead, I press a finger to the steamy surface and write, Hello. I start to feel foolish, but then the beginning of letters start to form under mine. Hi. “Can you hear me?” I ask out loud. Several seconds pass, then Yes appears.

“Have you been watching me this whole time?” The thought makes my pussy clench. I want to feel absurd, but I can’t find the shame. My heart is thumping in my ears as the Y appears, followed by an E and an S. I take a steadying breath. “Have you watched me . . . touch myself?” Again, Yes appears.

I swallow as a thousand thoughts compete for my attention, only one stands out. “Do you like it, watching me touch myself?” I’ll admit I’m relieved when they write Yes again.

“Was—” my voice is weak, so I clear my throat, “was that you?” It takes them a few seconds to respond. It was. I have trouble wrapping my mind around that. I walked through them. We touched.

I’m about to finger myself over a ghost. For a ghost.

“Do you want to see me fuck myself?” I ask, my voice breathy with need. I expect another yes, but they surprise me. Roughly. One word and it’s more than enough.

A gasp and shudder rocks through me when I raise my hips and thrust against myself. I force my eyes open against the pleasure and find a message waiting for me. Another.

My attention is drawn to the fogged mirror as she writes Color? Green. And I follow it with, Urs is black. I chuckle to myself, the more convenient shorthand reminding me of my preteen years. “Observant,” she says under her breath, but I hear her clearly in the small, echo-y space.

“Band?” she continues the conversation, the moment passed us. Ever? I write in response. She laughs and nods. Cruel. I write quickly before pausing to think about it. That’s a universally tough question, no one has just one favorite band. Finally, I respond. Queen.

“So, you have good taste, then,” she quips, “good to know I’m not driving you out of your mind with my music choices.” Never. Then I add: Thank u.

Skye is stunning with the moonlight draped across her. A lone star in the eternal night I’ve been cast into. The silver light catches the faded scars on her forearm and my fingers flex with the need to touch them. Curiosity burns within me, and I wonder at what point the agony became too much to contain. When did her soul start planning its escape to somewhere better? Did nobody notice that she was bursting at the seams?

If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be willingly spending my free time hanging out with the ghost who terrorized me and my friends—something we probably should’ve talked about but doesn’t seem to matter anymore—I would have laughed in their face. But it’s true.

“Did you do this?” My voice echoes in an angry growl that I barely recognize. Just when I think the coward might ignore me, letters begin to form on the mirror in front of me. Yes. My rage intensifies. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Several seconds pass. You’re hurting yourself.

I’m in love with a woman who wants to die and I’m desperately trying to keep her alive.

Oh my heart

I try to get her attention while she cooks herself dinner, opening and closing the cabinets while she cooks. Instead of acknowledging me, she grabs her headphones and puts them on. It’s infuriating. I’m tired of the cold shoulder treatment. When she goes back up to her room and turns on the shower, I rush in there and write I’m sorry in the barely formed layer of steam on the mirror. I don’t regret pouring out the poison she uses to numb herself, but I do regret how deeply I’ve upset her.

Before I register the decision, my finger is scribbling across the mirror. It’s me, Aiden. There’s no going back now. Her big, brown eyes scan from left to right several times before understanding dawns on her. My own travel to the tips of her fingers that have begun to shake, I trace the trail of goosebumps that break out over her soft skin, and finally meet her gaze.

As soon as I’m capable of movement, I try to take a step forward, but I find myself blocked by an invisible wall. I push, I ram, I kick and beat my fists, but still, I can’t go in. I watch helplessly as she shuts her bathroom door, cutting me off from her entirely. Panic seizes me as I pace just outside the barrier she’s manifested into existence. A sick feeling washes over me as my thoughts scramble. I want her to feel safe although having me out of the picture is not the way. “Skye,” I whisper uselessly. “I was just trying to protect you. Can’t you see that I’m here for you? I just want to take care of you.”

With a twitch, I press enter. My eyes widen as the search results populate. Local Aiden Murphy dead at twenty-eight after slaying several people in their home. Aiden Murphy killer stabbed by one of his victims. Both dead on the scene. SCHS community rocked by the gruesome murder of beloved alumni football stars.

On Friday, December 13th, 2019, local Aiden Murphy was pronounced dead at the scene after stabbing several young men in their home. After further investigation, the police found the link between the killer and his victims. Murphy and one of the deceased, Nate Peters, were found to have a long history, dating as far back as childhood. The two were known to have their disagreements through high school, a classic case of outsider versus the quarterback, but they seemed to have reconciled in recent years, being spotted at the same parties without issue. A source close to the victim reports that she’d seen them in friendly conversation several times. No one is sure what the catalyst was for the attack.

It’s another day watching Skye bury herself in work all day and reading until she can’t keep her eyes open at night. She’s been running from something, spending the last two months doing anything to keep herself from thinking about me. About us. I correct myself, because I’m not giving up on the idea that there will be an us. She’s in self-preservation mode, I understand that. But for me, there’s nothing to fight for but her.

She looks like a damn vampire, ready to drain the little life that’s left in me. And yet, I eagerly allow myself to be lured in and sucked dry, my eyes devouring every voluptuous inch of her in the luxurious red and black lingerie. Fucking hell, I’m depraved. It’s been too goddamn long. I want to peel down the garter belt and those lacy thigh-highs with my teeth, then pull those panties to the side and edge her over and over until she’s trembling and sweating and sobbing as she begs for release.

Having her so close yet still out of reach is maddening.

There’s no me without her.

“I swear if you hit that rocker against the wall one more time, I’m going to lose my shit!” Skye yells from above, the promise of violence in her voice. But it’s not her anger that takes me aback and sends my heart racing, it’s the fact that she’s finally acknowledged my existence. The bright smile that splits my face transforms into a mischievous smirk as I haul myself back against the wall again, and again, and again.

“Is this what you wanted?” she grits out between her teeth. My brow quirks, and my cock stirs as I take in her position. Yes, it’s what I want. I’m envious of the non-existent version of myself that she thinks is sitting in that chair right now. Skye slams her hand against the wood and wraps her fingers around the top, right next to where my head should be. She uses the leverage to lift and roll her hips. Between the shadows, I catch sight of the bitter smile that curves her lips illuminated in the dim orange light.

“Hello, little wraith.” I smile down at her, my greedy eyes taking in the blush of her cheeks and recognition in her eyes. I hold her gaze even though her heaving breasts are calling for my attention in the lacy camisole she’s wearing. It’s freezing out here. I want to lick away all the goosebumps that I know cover her flesh. “What was that you were saying? Oh yeah, what am I going to do about you teasing me? How about I show you?”

“Months. It’s been fucking months of torture. Do you have any idea what that does to a man? The kind of depraved beast he becomes when he can’t have the one thing he needs?” I manage to pop the button of my jeans open and pull down my zipper. My hands shake with the shock of our sudden reunion, but I’m not wasting a single second. “Well, you’re about to find out. Open up, baby.” I wrap my hand around her throat and press under her chin, triggering a reflex that makes her open her mouth a fraction. I slip the tip of my dick between her lips, sliding it back and forth across the plump, moist flesh until she opens further.

“Beg for it, baby. Tell me how sorry you are. Give me a reason to forgive you. Use that smart fucking mouth to say those pretty little words I want to hear. It’s so easy, I know you can do it.” I gently brush the sweaty bangs away from her forehead as her eyes shrink to slits of disdain.

The words I was ready to throw at him are stuck in my dry throat. I swear all the moisture in my body is concentrated in the wetness that’s gathering between my thighs as he looks at me like that—like a man starved, like a man who’s gone feral and could feed until he’s gorged himself on my insides and picked my bones clean. I take a few cautious steps back from him as adrenaline pumps through me for a dizzying high.

“Why don’t you show me what you had in mind when you came down here?” Aiden cocks his brow. “You wanted to fuck a ghost, now’s your chance.” “I—”

Readjusting, I shift my feet forward to gain a more secure footing, then use my thighs and the stability of his strong shoulders to slam myself up and down his cock. Aiden’s groaned “Oh, fuck,” goes straight to my pussy at the same time his finger presses against my clit and I buck forward with the spasm of pleasure.