The Ghosts of Dearheart: Book V

Chapter 1

Try though he may, Hartley's focus would not leave his dorm room ceiling.

His eyes were dry, but wouldn't blink. His neck was sore, but his head wouldn't turn. His stomach was empty, but he couldn't eat. He didn't think he'd ever felt so completely detached from his own body before. It was like he didn't even exist. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

But he didn't care. He didn't care about all of the classes he'd missed. He didn't care about the frantic knocking on his door that he pretended not to hear. He didn't care about the dozens of missed texts and calls on his now-dying phone that he couldn't be bothered to charge. Maybe the only comfort there was to be found left on this earth was complete and utter nihilism. It was better than drowning in the endless ocean of agony that filled him from head to toe, at least. Or...maybe it wasn't. Maybe he should feel terrible. It was the absolute least he deserved for what he'd done.

Hartley's chest deflated in a silent sigh. He couldn't do that. Even letting himself feel as monumentally heartbroken as he did was a selfish act, because he knew what the probability was that if he allowed himself to wallow like that, Tieran would feel it, too. He tried not to think about that, though. He tried to tell himself that this unfulfilled bond would become easier to live with as the days and weeks and months stretched on. It only started once they met, after all. With enough time apart, maybe it would fade until it was gone entirely. He tried his best to pretend that thought was a comforting one instead of one that made him want to throw up with grief.

It didn't really work, though. Everything felt like gray, hopeless shit. His thoughts were a scattered mess of fear, confusion, and anguish behind this wall of shakily constructed apathy, and he could feel how badly it wanted to leak. It bulged at every seam and groaned against the weakening barrier, eager to breach it and send an unstoppable gush of emotion to his system that would surely culminate in a heart attack.

Finally finding the strength to move, he sat up on the edge of the bed, feet on the ground as he slowly rubbed his face with his hands hard enough to bruise the skin. He hadn't even been broken up with Tieran for two full days, and already he felt like he had no idea who was anymore. Because really, who was he anymore? He liked art, but the thought of it now made him feel bitter. Knowing that Jacob had designed him to be that way made it feel so hollow and fake. He liked music, but now it just seemed like empty noise. He liked sex, but the notion of ever touching someone else again made him so sick that his stomach lurched.

He bowed his head further into a hand, staring at the floor. For a little while there, he honestly thought that he would never feel this alone again. He was so lonely for most of his childhood and teen years, and college finally seemed to be looking up, but now it was worse than ever. Now, not only was he not talking to his parents, but even Jasmine had abandoned him. He truly had no one. But...maybe that had always been a little true. Maybe this was why no one loved him. Maybe they could somehow sense what he was. Sense that he was bad at some molecular level, that he wasn't so much a boy as he was just some phony husk for an entitled, reborn witch that warranted nothing but disdain. A lump began to form in his throat and he swallowed as hard as he could to get rid of it.

God, how he wanted to forget. He just wanted to forget Jacob, and the meadow, and the valley, and everything that came with it. Not that he was happy at the start of this semester, but he would have given anything to trade this misery for that one. He just couldn't do this. He couldn't face a future completely devoid of love. The containing wall in his head began to buckle with stress and he picked up his phone, desperate to find something that could help, or at least distract him. He felt numb as he swiped the latest series of texts from Tieran off of his screen. He tried not to read them, but his brain still registered snippets just to spite him.