The Seamstress

Help From a Ghost

The woman grunts with effort as she adjusts the girl on her shoulder, pushing through the forest. She's done waiting for Queenie to teach her.

"Perhaps this one will be better," she grumbles, swatting aside a branch.

This time, she's going to be the teacher.

*

I'm done.

I don't want to do this anymore.

"Electra Jouvempes?" Quentin says in a cautious voice.

"Just Electra," I murmur against my arm.

"Alright, Just Electra. Are you okay?"

"No."

"Is it because Absinthe took your sister?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

I prop myself up on one elbow, shivering slightly as the snow melts into my coat. "W-where are you?" I ask; my voice is shaky from crying so hard.

"I'm sitting in front of your face. Would you like me to move?"

Why is he so polite? I think as I sit up, hopefully facing him. I rub my palms vigorously over my itchy eyes.

"A-actually, you can stay right there," I say softly, bringing my knees up to my chin as I rock gently back and forth.

I don't understand it. One moment the ghost is tearing me apart from the inside, the next his presence is almost calming, comforting, like something a friend might have to offer.

I don't want him to leave.

"You look very sad. I understand. Absinthe caused me great suffering as well," Quentin says.

I look at the spot where his voice is coming from. "Weren't you going to get married?" I ask. I take the corner of my coat and try to rub away the drying tears on my cheeks.

"Yes," Quentin says. His voice sounds farther, like his whispers are being carried away by the wind before I can hear them properly. "But she didn't care for me enough."

"She killed her father to avenge you."

"That is beside the point. I'm not here to discus what happened to me in the past. As I recall, you came here to ask me something."

"I didn't wanna," I mutter. "Z-Zinnia made me come."

"Why didn't you... 'wanna?'"

"Because you hurt me," I say. My deep fear of him returns and I suddenly stand up, nearly tripping over the grave behind me as I shakily try to walk away.

He'll do it again, he's just biding his time, he's going to kill me.

"You don't need to run," Quentin says. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I... Please stay. I can't leave the graveyard unless Absinthe tells me to. And I haven't talked to someone for so long."

I turn around, but I'm not sure if I'm facing him anymore. "Why would I talk to you? You don't deserve to talk to anyone. Do you have any idea of the--the pain you caused me?"

"I do," Quentin whispers. "I felt your pain through my hands. How could I not? It hurt me to hurt you, Just Electra, and I wish I had not done it. But I had to."

"Why?"

"Because Absinthe said so."

I stomp my foot in frustration. "Why couldn't you just disobey her?" I cry. "It's called free will!"