Crimson Lace: A Crimson Peak love story (Thomas Sharpe)

Part-5 TENSION

She can feel it when I touch her...
I know it's wrong. That she's married, and that I have no business interacting with the living. But... I can't help it...

All these years alone, and something about her is just, mesmerizing to me.
I feel filthy, like an animal. I disgust myself. Does being dead mean that I can't at the very least have some dignity?

"You've been avoiding me, Thomas."
She sounds displeased. I roll my eyes and turn to her.
"Lucille..."

"It's that woman, isn't it?" She said, curling her lip in a distasteful grimace.
"You've not comforted me since they've arrived. You know the only joy we have in this miserable afterlife is being together." She said softly, as she placed her hand upon my cheek.
I turn away.

"How many times have I expressed to you that I don't want any part of that anymore." I hissed.
She scoffed, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at her.

"That hasn't stopped you from slithering into my bed when you were lonely enough. You know we were all each other had in life. That rings even more true now in death."

I pulled away from her and walked over toward the window.
She's right, all these years of isolation have driven me back to my less than savory comforts, but who would've guessed that even in death a man is still a man, and the sins of the flesh will follow you even after that flesh has rotted away.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." She hissed, venomously.
"You've become infatuated with that woman. She's stealing your attention away from me."

I tried to ignore her, I can't stand it when she gets this way.
"Once the winter ends, she'll leave. Just like Edith left."

"Don't you dare mention Edith!" I exclaimed.

"Why? Are you harboring guilt dear brother? After all, you know that it was your phase with her that resulted in our pathetic afterlife."

"No. Our monstrous actions damned us to this. The horror we dealt to keep our abhorrent way of life alive."

She seemed hurt by my statement.
"I didn't love you like that, Lucille. I thought I did...But really, you were just the only comfort I'd known throughout my life.
I want to be your brother, Lucille...not your lover."

She didn't respond, her expression told me everything I needed to know. She was angry at me, hurt, and when she gets this way, she has the emotional threshold of a spoiled child being told no.

"It's pathetic how you could let just any woman you see come between you and your blood! You're a weak little worm of a man!" She spat.

"I'm not a man, Lucille...I'm a ghost." I replied, flatly, refusing to show any emotion toward her tantrum.

That really upset her. The room was still for a moment, but the energy from her rage started to fill it.
Her hair began to swirl wildly around her and the objects on the shelves began to shake.

With a shrill shriek she vanished in a cloud of black smoke. I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.
"Bloody Drama Queen..."

I can hear the faint clanking of dishes down in the kitchen.
She's cooking something.
There's not a lot of perks that come from being deceased, but I do enjoy being able to phase into any room I wish within an instant.

August is sitting at the table, waiting for his breakfast, and she has just pulled a pan of fresh bread out of the old wood stove.
Oh how I miss the smell of bread, or just food in general. One of the many things I took for granted during my time with the living.

Smell, taste, the only physical sensation I haven't lost to my mortality is touch, though it's different than one would feel in the flesh. It all comes down to energy I suppose.

They don't notice me as I walk right past them, it's amazing to me how much August favors his grandfather, Alan. Blonde, handsome, warm complexion, but his eyes, those are all Edith.

I'm glad, that even after all the hell I put her through, she was still able to find happiness.
The realization that I wasted my own short life on trying to keep Lucille happy, and completely neglected my own needs saddens me.

The only time I ever felt true happiness was my short time with Edith. I think that must be what draws me to Sybil, she reminds me of Edith in some ways. There's a genuine kindness about her, a gentleness, combined with a childlike curiosity that makes it difficult for me to keep from enticing her with little clues about the house.

Look at her, so focused, her mossy green eyes glisten in the sunlight that reflects through the window. I wish so badly to speak with her, to have a conversation with anyone other than Lucille would be a welcome change of pace.

She flips the eggs in the skillet, over easy.
Her movements are so delicate and graceful, I could watch her do literally anything and be in absolute awe of her. Maybe Lucille is right, maybe I am infatuated with Sybil, after last night I couldn't deny it.

It felt wrong to touch her in that way, invasive, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel that there was a connection between her and I.
I felt stronger, as if the energy from her reactions made me more physical, in a way, rather than spectral.

Amazingly, almost as if I were whole again, I could feel her skin beneath my fingertips. I could feel her body heat, and her hair as it brushed my face while I laid behind her in the tub.
I could almost hold her, like a man should be able to hold a woman.

Lost in my thoughts, I absentmindedly brushed a loose lock of her chestnut brown hair from her cheek.
She must've felt it because she placed her hand where my fingers grazed her. Her eyes darted in my direction, staring right through me with those large doe-like eyes.
She paused for a moment.

"Thomas?..." she whispered.
My heart leapt into my throat at the sound of my name coming from those delicate lips. How can one feel such strong affection toward another when they don't even live on the same plain of existence?

"I'm here..." I replied, knowing she couldn't hear me. Oh how I wish that she could.