Truly Madly Ghostly

Chapter Twenty-six: The Ritual

The merging of the day and an upcoming long night had given birth to a surreal twilight. It was during that time Charlotte came back home.

But she was not alone.

Rebecca was with her—noticing every little thing and change as they went up to the fourth floor. 

As the elevator door dinged shut, Charlotte felt her own heartbeatos squeezing her throat—making it hard for her to breathe, to think, to stop her eyes from getting glossy. If Rebecca succeeded today, there would be no more late-night musical disturbances, no one would play the guitar—long, rough fingers would no more strum the chords; she would no more listen to the deep voice. Bizarre incidents that she now knew were signs of a haunting—sudden chills, doors, and windows opening, closing and slamming on their own, things moving, disappearing, and appearing by themselves—none of them will happen anymore. There will be no more getting mesmerized by a charming face and an ardent heart—a heart that did not beat. She would not have to fret anymore about certain eyes which would turn black eerily. 

Because there would be no more Alex. 

The elevator door opened. 

And suddenly, Charlotte realized that there was peace in not knowing. It was correct that she felt like almost losing her mind when she was in the dark about Alex's reality. But that was nothing compared to how she felt now. This unbearable desire to change the reality ate her up from the inside and filled her with great distress. Any reality would be better than the one where he was a dead person—existing in a stagnant, abysmal existence.

Noticing that Charlotte stood unmoving, Rebecca held her hand supportively. 

Throughout the entire walk down the corridor to her apartment, Charlotte kept her eyes strictly glued to her feet.

She refrained from raising her head and looking around in case she saw him. It was not like she was scared of him knowing now that he was a ghost—the sound of the word felt so awful. Instead, she was actually scared that she would never fail to recall the moment if she saw him and found the same anguish as hers in his eyes. 

Outside, a bird kept screeching from one of the nearest trees. No, it was not the owl. That one sat quietly on its usual spot—on one of the branches of the oak tree snugly standing near the apartment building.

"It is so strong here," Rebecca commented, sauntering about her home before proceeding toward the balcony. "I can feel the presence of the spirit around. He's close somewhere."

Charlotte closed her eyes. So, he was near. 

Is he probably watching her?

Rebecca wandered out on the balcony while Charlotte remained in her bedroom, standing with her fists clutched.

"I'm sorry," to the thin air, she said with her eyes still shut. A lone tear dropped down from her one eye. She whispered into the empty room, "I'm sorry. I don't want to let you go—please believe me. But I have to because this is the only reasonable thing to do—to free you from being stuck in this dark, dreary, lonely space. You need to sever all the ties that bind you to this world. You need to cross over—" More tears rolled down her face. 

Oh, her heart! A red hot ache spread throughout the organ. 

A sweeping, cold wind blew in through the open balcony door and brought an anguished whisper — But I have you, Char. It softly brushed past her ear—so soft that even if someone stood right next to her would not be able to hear it. The haunting words, the distressed voice, the surreal feel of someone's presence—all of them could be easily thought of as a delusion created by the mischievous wind. Nevertheless, Charlotte knew it was no delusion.