Misguided Ghosts

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Seven - Ed

I was falling asleep when I heard the lock click. I'd given Tay keys to both the building and my flat, so I simply assumed it was her. A weight collapsed onto the sofa next to me and a head rested on my chest. My arms tightened around her.

"Tay,"

"Really?"

This suddenly felt wrong. Her shoulders were too broad, her hair too curly, her arms too muscular. This didn't feel like Tay. This felt like...a man.

I sat up sharply, my eyes wrenching themselves open, shoving the intruder away from me and springing off the sofa.

Caleb sprawled out on my sofa and chuckled to himself, not even bothering to take off his shoes before putting his feet up. Part of me thought that I'd never be able to use that sofa again, while another part of me thought about expensive it would be to buy a new sofa. He laughed mirthlessly as he took in my fast breathing and the shaking of my palms.

"It's funny," He said. "You don't have any emotion, and yet I still manage to scare you."

I clenched my fists. "What do you think you're doing here? And how did you get in?!"

He held up a set of keys. Keys that I recognised. The keys that I'd given to Tay. "It was all too easy to swipe these off her desk when I was getting dressed while you two were being all lovey-dovey in the kitchen." His eyes flickered to my wrist. "Going to make some more pretty bracelets yet?"

"That's none of your business," I growled. Then I turned on my heel and began to walk towards the kitchen, an idea forming in my mind. Well, more of a theory, but one I wanted to test. If Caleb and I were linked, then would he be able to feel the one thing that I could feel?

I busied myself with making coffee, hiding my real intentions. As I opened the cutlery drawer to find myself a spoon, I found the one sharp knife that I kept in there because there wasn't enough room in the knife block. I took them both out, stirring my coffee with my left hand while keeping the knife hidden with my right. Taking a deep breath, I raised the knife and pressed it to the skin of my left forearm. I pushed it down, deeper into my skin and slashed.

Pain lanced through my and I clenched my teeth together as Caleb leapt up, a scream sounding from his lips. Blood pulsed from my arm and slid down my snowy skin, dropping onto the floor with steady plopping noises. Caleb clamped a hand over his arm, his skin soon turning red as he tried to stop the flow of blood. Our wounds were identical: Our left forearm, measuring at about three inches long; deeper than I'd ever cut before and bleeding profusely. The only difference between the pair of us was our emotions: pain and anger was rolling through him, frowning in agony while his face held the very definition of shock. I stood, watching his reaction, the immediate pain having left me with a slight burning and nothing else. While he gasped in discomfort, I stood cool and collected.

"I guess not having a soul has its advantages,"

Outside, I heard footsteps. Was someone coming to visit me? This was the top floor, so it was one of two people: someone who was going to knock on my door because some idiot hadn't closed the front door to the building properly, or someone was on the wrong floor.

There was a soft knock on the door, which Caleb had left slightly ajar. "Ed?"

I turned to face the door, my stomach clenching into knots. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb's trademark smirk. "Tay?"

She came into the flat, her eyes wild with worry and her hair dishevelled, as if she'd run from her house to my building. "Is everything okay? I heard someone screaming,"