9. Georgia

9

Georgia

Now

M y heart is racing as I rush up the winding staircase to my room.

I can't believe I almost let myself fall for him again. I need one of those metal wire brushes to scrub Ian Foster from my heart once and for all.

What did I think was going to happen? We'd fall into bed together again and live happily ever after in this cursed house? Absolutely not.

This is what happens when I indulge. My instincts fail me at every turn, and I make stupid decisions that shouldn't involve wanting Ian.

I make it to the hallway on wobbly legs, surprising myself by not tripping or falling once on my haste up. The colorful lights from Auden's room glow brighter tonight since Ian turned off half the sconces on our way down to the library. I peek my head into her room, gazing across the room for ghosts before my eyes settle on her sleeping body. I can't help but notice the similarities she shares with Ian as she sleeps. Her dark hair in disarray around her pillow. Her lips parted slightly as she silently breathes.

She looks the most like him in this state.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, so I rush to the guest room across the hall and close the door quietly behind me. A moment later, there's a soft knock.

"Georgia, can we talk?" Ian's voice pleads from the other side of the door. I lean against it and silently cry.

My heart is angry at me for not giving in to it and enjoying the small moment of happiness I had with him for the last few hours.

My brain is high-fiving me for having the strength to walk away.

My soul feels hollow, an empty black hole trying to swallow the rest of me up with it.

There's another soft knock, vibrating the door that separates us. "I'm sorry, for tonight, for everything," Ian says, his voice sounding more defeated than I've ever heard it since Irene's death. "I'll be across the hall if you need anything. Good night, Georgie."

I press my ear against the door, listening for the telltale sign that he's shut away in the office, locked in the forbidden room. Too bad I can't figure out how to forbid my heart from wanting him.

I open my door, leaving it cracked for Auden, and I finally force myself into bed. Turning off the lights and wrapping myself with blankets that still smell like him, I drift into a hazy, regretful, fitful sleep.

I wake with a jolt when the bedroom door slams shut. I try to lift my head so I can see if Auden came in, but my body doesn't respond. I'm stuck frozen solid on my back, the navy duvet pooled around my torso and my arms crossed against my chest.

I feel like a corpse, buried alive in the coffin of my own making.

It's been over ten years since I had a sleep paralysis episode like this. Ian used to wake up next to me and talk me through it, but I don't have him here to aid me tonight.

Taking shallow, quick breaths, I urge my body to move, to do something, anything but stay motionless. Everything is heavy and working against me while my brain is wide awake. It's like being trapped in quicksand, only my face isn't submerged yet.

A strangled noise pulls my attention away from the turmoil of my unresponsive body, and I let out a silent scream while pleading with my body to move.

To get up.

To run.

Because she's standing there, closer than I've seen her in years.

Reaching toward me with skeletal-like hands, the flesh off-colored and pulling away from her bones.

Her hair falling from her scalp in clumps onto her lacy white nightgown.

The nightgown that's smeared with dirt.

Blood drips freely down her nose, leaving bloody red blotches on her chest, staining the nightgown even more.

I can't move as I watch in horror as she takes a step closer to me, the white foam from the seizure she had as she died hitting the navy duvet at my feet.

Her arms reach for me, and her lips open wide as she continues to step closer until she's standing right next to me. I can do nothing but watch in silence as she leans over me, bringing the rotting flesh on her face right next to mine.

"Don't trust . . . don't trust . . . protect . . ." she moans, her voice a garbled growl through the white foam as she drips blood onto the pillow.

"Don't trust . . . don't trust . . . protect . . ."

She pulls away from me, bringing her fleshy hand to my hair, caressing me, gently, before she disappears through the closed door.

As soon as she disappears from sight, my body convulses as all the feeling comes back. I sit up quickly, turning the bedside light on. Rubbing my hands over my face, then my hair, checking to see if her blood is stained on my pillow.

Nothing.

It was only a dream, Georgia. Just a dream. A stupid, hateful, terrifying dream.

Just a dream, I tell myself over and over again as I work on calming down enough to go back to sleep.

It almost works until I hear Auden scream from her bedroom across the hall. I throw myself out of bed and rush to the door, slamming myself against it as I try to open it.

It's locked.

Why is it locked ?

I frantically pull on the doorknob as I hear Auden's screams from the other room. The door won't budge, and it's one of those old doors that only lock with a key...but it can be locked from either side with that key...

" Ian! " I scream, pounding my hand against the door as hard as I can. "IAN! HELP!"

Please wake up, please wake up. I pound on the door over and over, screaming his name until Auden's screaming is cut off.

I stop screaming and slamming my hand against the door and press my ear against the wood, trying to hear what's happening on the other side. I can't hear her. I can't hear anything but the sound of my own frantic breathing.

The door handle rattles loudly, and seconds later, I hear the distinct turn of the key. I grab the handle and throw the door open. Confusion floods my veins when I see that the hall is empty.

I run to Auden's room, stopping short when I see her fast asleep in bed with Horton curled up at her feet.

What the fuck is going on?

"Georgia! What on earth are you doing out here at this hour? It's nearly three in the morning."

I look over at my father's silhouette standing at the top of the stairs, his cane nowhere in sight.

"I—I'm not sure," I answer, my voice shaking with nerves and confusion. I look back at Auden's peacefully sleeping form and then at my father again.

My father steps closer, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Are you having those nightmares again? Are you sleepwalking again?"

Was it just a nightmare? It felt so real. Auden's screams sounded so real.

Am I asleep? I pinch my arm, hard, and hiss through my teeth.

Nope, definitely not sleeping.

"I'm awake, Dad. I just thought I heard Auden screaming," I tell him, my brows knit in concentration as I recall everything that just happened. "But I think maybe it was just a dream. I had a few glasses of wine earlier. Maybe it's just that."

"I sure didn't hear any screaming," he muses. "You used to get those a lot when you were younger. Sometimes you'd sleepwalk and scare the hell out of your mother," Dad says with a laugh. "She was so scared you'd end up walking right into the lake one day and never come out."

My blood runs cold as I look up at my father. Does he know? My mother promised she wouldn't tell anyone...about that day.

The day I killed my best friend.

Dad claps me once on the back. "Well, kid, I'm going to bed. I get restless at night these days. It's the only time my body doesn't feel like it's failing me. You know?" I shake my head at him, not really listening to anything he's saying as I stare vacantly at my daughter. My brain replays the events of that night like a highlight reel. My mother's face hovering above mine...over and over again.

"Get some sleep, Dad. I love you," I say distractedly as I watch him disappear down the hall and close his door behind him, leaving me alone with my ghosts yet again.

I look over at Auden one last time before deciding that everything must have been another bad dream before forcing my legs to take me back to the guest room. I hear a door open behind me, and I turn, thinking it's just my father again. Instead, Ian's messy bedhead appears from behind the office door.

He looks like he just woke up from a deep sleep. His eyes struggle to focus, lines from his pillow indented into his cheek. "Georgia," he says with a yawn. "What are you doing out here?"

"Did you hear any screaming?" I ask him.

"Screaming, no? Who was screaming?" He straightens, his body coming to life like the bodyguard he tries to be for me. Like he's always tried to be, but he can't always save me from myself, or the terrifying things my head conjures up.

I shake my head. "No one. It's nothing. Just a bad dream."

Ian steps out from behind the doorframe and into the hall, walking toward me with a look of concern. My mouth dries out, and all thoughts of ghosts evaporate as my eyes sweep over his body.

This is most definitely not the boy I knew all those years ago. I knew he was fit, but I didn't know he was this fit. His flannel pants sit low on his hips, that dusting of hair trailing from his stomach to beneath those same flannel pants teasing me. Naturally, his shirt went missing at some point, his bare, muscular chest and abs on full display for me as he steps closer.

What is it with this stupid hallway?

I take a step backward as he gets closer. The closer he gets, the less of his body I can see. He stops in the middle of the hall before changing his mind and heading into his room. As I turn to do the same, he comes out with a blanket and pillow in his arms.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my eyebrows knitting together. I'm secretly hoping he's doing what I think he's doing. Even if I want to hate him, he's still my safe haven in this evil house.

"Keeping guard," he answers back before he pushes past me with his arms full of blankets and disappears into my room behind me. "Come on; let's go back to bed," he says, and I twirl to see him making his spot on the couch.

My heart is doing backflips in my chest as I watch him get situated. His muscles flexing as he lies down, putting his arms behind his head. Flashing that crooked smile at me like everything that happened tonight between us was just a fever dream of my own making.

I look at the empty bed and see my mom's diary sitting on the pillow. I don't remember moving it, but I must have during my nightmare.

Do I want to sleep with my mother's ghost? Or should I choose the lesser of two evils and beg Ian to keep me safe in his arms...just for tonight? Will he even let me after I yelled at him to stay away from me?

I walk to the bed hesitantly, grabbing the diary and holding it to my chest, then over to the couch he's lying on. Our eyes meet, and his gaze feels like an exposed wire touching my skin as his eyes travel up and down my body. I'm not wearing anything special, just a purple sleep tank and matching shorts, but he makes me feel like I'm wearing nothing.

Exposing me from the inside out like only he can.

I open my mouth to ask if I can sleep with him, just for tonight. Before I say anything, he shifts his body against the couch, leaving a space made just for me. He nods his head toward the spot, and that shy smile from our childhood tugs at his lips as I move closer.

He doesn't wrap his arms around me like I want him to, but his presence next to me is enough to make me feel safe again. I press my back against his chest as he moves one of his arms under the pillow we are sharing, lying his other arm across my hip and down my thigh.

"Will you read this with me?" I ask him quietly, holding my mother's diary up between us. I don't think I have the strength to read it on my own, and I'm still not sure I want to know what she wrote. But it feels like a weakness to ignore it.

Ian takes the diary from me carefully, shifting his arm from underneath my pillow and opening the book in front of us. "Of course, why don't I read it to you while you try to sleep. Like we used to?"

"I'd love that," I whisper, snuggling closer while his voice reads my mother's most coveted thoughts.