8. Chapter Eight

Iwasn"t dead. Not yet, at least.

It was hot as hell and I couldn"t breathe. Darkness wrapped around me, squeezing the air out of my lungs, constricting my limbs and making it impossible to move. I tried to scream, but shadows stuffed down my throat, cutting off the noise and making my lungs burn. As I ran out of oxygen, blood slammed in my ears like a drum. I panicked, fighting and failing to escape.

This was it. This was how I died, alone in the dark.

I hadn"t been able to save Lennon, and I definitely couldn"t save myself.

This was the end.

Grief washed through me, but I couldn"t cry. The tears wouldn"t come. All I could do was stare into the impossible blackness that stretched in every direction, listening to the thundering of my heart.

I strained my eyes, but I couldn't see any shapes or figures. There was nothing but pure, unending darkness. I was alone in the void, forced to suffer and die alone.

Or so I thought.

Without warning, an invisible weight pressed down on me, an energy so heavy I feared it would snap my bones and crush me into nothing.

I knew that power—I'd felt a fraction of it in my apartment when I"d seen the shadow figure. Now, it was nearly unbearable, jacked up so high it would have taken my breath away if I could breathe. It was him, lurking somewhere nearby, just out of sight.

"Jovie," a voice whispered, the sound echoing around me. It rattled through my brain, piercing through my senses and making me freeze.

It was his voice; the shadow's voice.

The blackness around me constricted tighter, threatening to snap me in half, and I managed a whimper.

"You"re so beautiful when you struggle." The whisper danced around me, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps behind. "And you"re all mine."

"Jovie!" Someone shook my shoulder, their touch dragging me out of the nightmare. Fingers pressed against the side of my neck, checking for a pulse. "Jovie, wake up."

I groaned, relieved I could finally make a noise, and pried my eyes open. My vision was hazy as it adjusted to the dim light of the hallway, and Lennon"s concerned face swam into view. She had a phone to her ear—mine, judging by the case—and a frantic look in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice coming out as a croak. My body ached, but a throbbing pain shot through my hand, reminding me of what happened before I blacked out. I'd punched and shattered the hallway mirror, and I was probably laying in a pile of broken glass.

Fucking wonderful.

She ignored me, instead responding to the person on the phone. "Yes, hello? I need an ambulance."

"No we don't," I argued, my voice still gravelly. I sat up abruptly, my stomach churning with the sudden movement. "Hang up."

She covered up the phone with her hand, her eyes narrowing on me. "Are you kidding me? You were unconscious and bleeding. We need an ambulance."

"We do not." Lennon was clearly out of her mind. We couldn"t afford an ambulance ride even if I did need one. It might have looked bad, but I wasn"t dying. At worst, I needed stitches for the gash in my knuckle, but otherwise I was okay. "I"m fine."

There was a muffled voice on the other end of the line, probably asking for our address so they could dispatch an emergency vehicle, but Lennon just stared at me, silently debating. Her jaw worked back and forth, and I could see the wheels turning behind her worried gaze.

"We can"t afford it, Len," I said, massaging my temple with my uninjured hand. "Please, hang up. I"m fine."

I could tell she didn"t want to. She wanted them to send an ambulance that would take me to the closest hospital a couple of miles down the road. She wanted to take care of me, wanted to make sure I was okay. I could read her like a book, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn"t want to make the same mistake we had with Mom, when we waited until it was too late.

But I wasn't Mom, and this wasn't nearly the same thing. I really was fine, aside from some aches and a little blood, and I knew she would believe me if I was adamant enough.

"Lennon Gray." My voice was flat as I gave her an impatient look. "I'm fine."

She waited for another second, the muffled voice on the other end of the line rattling in her ear, before she finally sighed. Mumbling an apology, she hung up and frowned. "Well?"

"Well, what?" I shifted, careful to avoid the shards of mirror around me.

She huffed and got to her feet, offering me a hand. I took it, allowing her to help me up, and wobbled a little before I found my balance.

"Well, what the hell happened, Jovie?" She gestured to the broken mirror. "It didn't just fly off and attack you. Why are you bleeding?"

My stomach knotted at the thought of the shadow"s reflection, him towering over me before everything went black. Icy fear gripped me, freezing my insides. How could I tell her what happened? What could I say?

Part of me wanted to answer, to get the burden off my chest that had weighed on me for so long, but another part had questions too.

"Where were you?" I asked, ignoring her questions for now. As afraid of the shadow as I was, I was equally—if not more afraid—of losing her. The fear I felt when I couldn"t find her was palpable and largely to blame for me trying to summon the hooded figure in the first place. "You weren"t here when I got home."

Her eyes narrowed into slits and she crossed her arms over her chest. "You"re joking, right? How is that even important right now?"

"Because you scared me," I snapped, staring daggers through her. "I couldn"t find you and your phone went straight to voicemail. Sue me for giving a damn."

"It died." Her raised voice bounced off the bare walls, making me flinch.

I knew she was pissed because it took a lot to make her yell, especially at me. She was always so stoic, so calm. She was a never-failing pillar of strength, the face of rationale. That"s where we were different.

I was the emotional one, the one who always felt too much. I wore my emotions on my sleeve, my heart exposed for the world to see.

And right now, my heart hurt.

Lennon and I rarely ever disagreed, much less fought, but it felt like everything between us was crumbling. All because of a shadow that was slowly ripping apart my sanity and ruining my life.

I lifted my hand to look at it, my stomach turning at the bloody gash between my knuckles. Thankfully, it didn"t look as deep as I initially thought, and it probably didn"t need stitches. I could get away with super glue if I was lucky.

"Will you help me doctor this? Then, I"ll tell you," I said, keeping my voice low. I didn"t want to fight, and I knew she wanted answers, but I needed a few more minutes to collect my thoughts. To prepare myself.

She was going to think I was insane—there was no avoiding it—but, hopefully, she"d at least believe me. She was the only person on the planet who would.

Huffing again, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and let them linger there before finally answering. "Fine, but you better have a damn good explanation," she said, eyeing the shattered glass on the floor near our feet. I"d get it cleaned up as soon as we dealt with my hand. "I liked that mirror."

Lennon led us to the bathroom where she retrieved the first aid kit from beneath the sink and set to work on my hand. She washed it and cleaned it with alcohol—despite my complaints and utter reluctance—before super gluing the skin back together. I watched in silence, aside from the occasional grunt or hiss when the pain became too much, entirely in awe of how efficiently she worked. She worked confidently, like she'd done this a time or two, which she had.

When we were young, Lennon tended to some of our mother's scratches and scrapes that she tried to write off as accidents. Despite the elaborate stories of how bruises randomly appeared all over her body, we knew better. Lennon made more ice packs and learned more about medicine than any eleven year old ever should have. She was unphased, determined, and confident as she wrapped a bandage around my hand.

As she was finishing up, she met my gaze briefly, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk. "I was on a date; that's why I wasn't here. Sorry for scaring you, but I promise Charlie is harmless."

I froze, my brows hiking up near my hairline. A date? Lennon had never mentioned a guy, much less told me that she liked one. I wasn't sure how to feel, wondering why she'd never brought it up before. Did she not like him that much? Had she made it a point to not mention it to me? Were we not sharing secrets like we used to?

A twinge of jealousy burned in my chest, but I swallowed it down. I didn't have anyone aside from Lennon, but she had countless friends from school. Apparently, she also had boyfriends. It wasn't her fault she was more popular than me, and I just had to accept that I wouldn't be the most important person in her life forever, the way she would be in mine.

"That's… nice," I said, trying my best to be supportive. I didn't know what else to say, so I decided to focus on the positives. She'd been safe earlier, not in trouble like I'd suspected. The shadow hadn't taken or hurt her, and my mental breakdown had been for nothing. She was safe, and that was all I really cared about. "He better be nice or I'll bury him."

She laughed, admiring her handiwork on my knuckle. "You're all set. No more punching inanimate objects, got it?"

I nodded. I'd definitely learned my lesson.

"If you need to take out some aggression go to the gym," she added. "They have punching bags you can knock around."

"Ha ha." My tone was mocking, but it wasn't the worst idea. Aside from the gym bros that frequented the gym between classes, I hadn't heard anything bad about it. It was a new construction building on the southside of campus, and it was free. "I'll think about it."

Lennon helped me clean up the mirror shards, even though I told her I could handle it alone. Either she didn't trust me to get up all the tiny pieces, or she thought I'd start swinging at it again, which was a possibility. Since she'd been home, I hadn't seen any hint of the shadow again. I was a little worried he might reappear in the glass as I picked up the pieces, but luckily, he didn't.

We vacuumed twice, doing our best to get all the slivers out of the carpet, and sat down at the tiny dining room table when we were finished. I was exhausted and sweaty, a dull throb pounding behind my temple that beat in time with the one in my hand.

My heartbeat kicked up when Lennon met my eyes across the small distance, because I knew what she was thinking without her having to say it. She was waiting for an explanation, and I was nervous to give it to her.

"You can't avoid me forever," she said, pursing her lips. "I know where you sleep."

"I know." I sighed heavily, wracking my brain for the best way to explain everything I'd kept buried and bottled for so long. After all this time, I should have had everything perfectly planned and memorized, but it clearly didn't work that way. My tongue seized at the thought of saying the words out loud. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"No, I won't." Lennon shook her head. "Besides, you haven't even given me a chance to decide. How do you know what I'll think?"

I hesitated. "Because I think I'm crazy."

The corner of her mouth twitched and a heavy silence fell over the apartment. I shifted in my seat, breaking eye contact and letting my gaze wander the room.

How could she possibly think I was sane if I felt like I was slowly losing my mind?

The shadow was the biggest secret I'd ever kept, the one thing I'd never told her, but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. If I didn't come clean and tell her what I'd felt, what I'd seen, she wouldn't let it go. Not after she'd found me unconscious and covered in blood today.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my racing heartbeat, then another. Anxiety was crawling up my spine, turning my stomach sour.

"Promise me you won't think I'm crazy." I met her gaze again.

"Jo, you're not crazy," she argued, folding her hands on top of the table. "I've known you your entire life. Just tell me what's on your mind. I promise I'm not going to judge you."

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. "There's a shadow."

She cocked her head to the side, a single brow arching. "A shadow?"

"He follows me," I went on, keeping my voice low. Subconsciously, my eyes skirted around the room, looking for any sign of him. To my relief, he wasn't there. "All the time, no matter where I go. He used to just stay in the corner of my eye but recently… recently, he's been a little more present."

I couldn't bear to look at my twin, instead letting my eyes land on the couch nearby. While saying the words out loud did come with a slight wave of relief, I also felt crazier than ever.

"What do you mean present?" she asked, her tone inquisitive. She didn't sound like she was judging me, just pressing for more information, and for that I was also grateful.

"I see him in mirrors. Today, I saw him in the bar," I explained. "He's always there, following me wherever I go. I don't know what he is or what he wants but…he feels dark, evil, powerful."

"What does he look like?"

For the first time, I let my eyes drift back to Lennon, locking with hers. Her expression was unreadable, but at least she wasn't looking at me like I'd grown a second head. That was good. Right?

Shivers roll through me as I imagine the hooded figure standing in front of me again, just a few feet from where we currently sat. It was too easy to recall every detail of him. They were burned onto the backs of my eyelids now, forever branded onto my brain.

"Tall," I said. "He's at least six feet, maybe seven. He wears a long black robe that covers every inch of him—I've never seen his face. He doesn't speak, at least not when I'm awake. He could be a ghost, or maybe a demon, I don't know."

Falling silent, I waited for a response, but it didn't come. Lennon was quiet, the gears turning behind her eyes again. I could almost hear her thoughts and the endless number of questions brewing there.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" I asked, preparing myself for the worst.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I told you I don't think you're crazy, Jovie, but I won't say that I'm not a little worried."

My stomach sank at her words, but I tried to be optimistic. She didn't think I was crazy, but she was worried. That makes two of us.

"So you punched the mirror because…"

"He was there," I admitted, my eyes shifting to the hall even though the mirror was long gone. I'd never look at that patch of wall—or anything else in our apartment, for that matter—the same. "I thought…I thought maybe he'd hurt you, and he was laughing, so I punched him."

She laughed. "I can see that."

For the first time in a while, I smirked. The knot in my chest had disappeared, and I was more content than I'd been in a long time. I might not have known what to do about the shadow, but at least someone else knew about it now. Plus, she hadn't called the hospital to get me a one-way ticket to the psych ward.

"Thank you for telling me," Lennon said, clearly pleased. "I don't have any answers for you—paranormal things aren't exactly in my field of study—but maybe there's a logical explanation for it."

There it was, her rational nature was finally kicking in, desperate for a way to logically explain shadow figures. I knew from the beginning to expect it, and maybe she had the right idea, but my shoulders still sagged a little.

"It might be worth talking to someone else about it. Maybe a counselor; there are several at the school," she pressed on, not giving me a chance to object. "Or if you want, I can ask my psych professor if there's someone in town who might know more."

I shifted in my seat again, suddenly uncomfortable. "So, I'm not crazy, but I should talk to a doctor about things I see that may or may not be there. Is that right?"

Lennon's eyes softened, her brows drawing together. "I don't think it's a bad idea. You said it's getting worse, which is what has me worried most. If it's something treatable, it's best to get ahead of it early, Jovie. I just want what's best for you."

I heard the words coming out of her mouth, but I wasn't listening anymore. She might not have said I was crazy out loud, but she didn't have to. Telling me to go see a doctor to treat whatever was wrong with me said it for her.

I shoved away from the table, the legs of my chair scraping on the little bit of linoleum that stretched from the dining room to the kitchen.

"Nice talk," I said with a nod, turning to head for my bedroom.

"Jovie!" Lennon called. "Don't be like that. I'm only trying to help."

"I don't want your help," I called before slipping into my room and closing the door, sealing me off from the one person I thought might understand. As I flopped onto my bed, pulling a pillow tightly to my chest, I realized it was a silly thing to hope for.

Lennon would never understand. No one would.

The shadow was my burden and my burden alone.

For the first time in my life, I was entirely on my own.