The Guardian

Love, Itai

Chapter 5

Itai slept dreamlessly. When he awoke, buried in a mound of blankets at the foot of Arden's bed, his eyes were glued shut. Bursts of light danced on his eyelids.

He heard shuffling and rubbed a hand over his face. Arden was across from him, shaping her short hair with a frustrated look upon her face. A colorful word or two escaped from her mouth. She surrendered to her bed head, spinning away from the mirror and ruffling the strands messily. In a moment of weakness, Itai's lips quirked upwards at her sudden lack of concern.

Arden unlocked her phone to check something, and Itai stood, stretching and rolling his neck. His shirt was torn across the back, rounding around to his abdomen. Dirt and blood—some Shruti's, mostly his own—stained the shirt sleeves. In movies, ghosts wore spotless white drapes. He must've missed the class on how to stay dirt free in the spirit world.

As Itai examined his shirt, Arden's phone began ringing. She scrunched her nose at the caller's name, then put it to her ear, greeting them with eagerness that Itai recognized as fake.

Why did people put on an act to mask their true thoughts? He'd done it in life as an attempt to spare hurt feelings, but watching other people do the same made him realize the illogicality of it. However, Itai had a feeling that if he were put in the situation, he would do the same out of habit.

Arden was nodding in response to the person on the line. "Yeah, I'll pull that up for you." Her feet swiveled to face Itai. His mind was still slowed by sleepiness, and she moved too briskly for him to follow. Arden's shoulder connected with his. One moment he was standing, the next he was crumpled on the ground, searing pain consuming his muscles like fire. Arden's phone dropped to the carpet with a thunk.

Itai cursed much more colorfully than Arden had before. Now he could feel? Not yesterday, when he would've died all over again to make contact with a wall? Really?

With a shaking hand, Arden picked the phone up to her ear. "I'm gonna call you back, okay?" she said quietly.

His breath caught with each inhale, and each noise felt like nails in his eardrums. It was like Shruti's claws were digging into him with twice the ferocity of the day before. His shoulder burned where she had snatched it.

To his horror, Arden reached forward, crouching beside him. Her eyes searched the floor, revealing that she couldn't see him—but knew he was present. Her hand hovered in one area then moved to another, barely missing his leg. Finally, her fingertips brushed his thigh. She pulled back jerkily, as if lightning coursed through her body at the touch.

Itai stared at her, his panicked breath slowing. She inched forwards again until her hand made contact. He hadn't braced himself for agony, and none came. Instead, warmth swelled in his knee, tendrils of it reaching out and weaving a pattern like the roots of a tree. He recognized the sensation: it was how he'd felt every day up until his death. The underrated comfort of blood flowing freely in your veins, and each molecule of your existence buzzing with life.

And then Arden pulled away, and he felt nothing once more.

She left the room in a rush, calling out to her mom. Itai remained on her floor for a moment. The pain in his upper back evanesced, and there was a fizzle of heat left where Arden had made contact. It faded too quickly for him to preserve the memory of it. He scrambled to follow her, his mind finally returning, and the rest of his body following.

Arden was in the living space, hammering her mother with questions. Mrs. Rasmus was a distant woman. She regarded Arden with mild interest with her arms curled over her legs like a protective cage. Itai walked past her, and wasn't even surprised as her eyes trailed after him. If Arden could sense him, it was no wonder that her mom could too.