Misguided Ghosts

Chapter Thirty-Five

Thirty-Five – Tay

Taylor.

I shifted in my sleep, hiding my face in Ed’s chest.

Taylor.

I wriggled again, rolling over. Beside me, Ed’s hand twitched.

Taylor.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead. Was that Ed talking in his sleep? He’d done it before. I looked around the gloom of his room, squinting in the darkness. I reached out blindly and found my phone to check the time. 6.37AM.

“Damn,” I whispered. “I don’t even have morning training today,”

Taylor.

I glanced down at Ed’s sleeping face. It definitely wasn’t him. Then who was it? Or what was it? I paused before getting out of bed, taking in Ed’s face. He looked so much younger when he was asleep. The small, worried frown that had somehow glued itself to his face was gone, the wrinkles on his forehead erased. His mouth, which was normally pressed into a flat line, was turned upwards in a smile as his eyes flickered beneath their lids. His right hand was resting on my pillow, hugging it slightly. I smiled to myself as I saw the hint of muscle that was taking shape on his bicep. The left hand-side of his hair was sticking up in all directions from where he’d slumped in his sleep as his body had relaxed, the ever-present tension seeping out of it.

Taylor.

I climbed out of bed and walked to the window, opening the curtains halfway. It was still dark outside, but shapes were beginning to take form. I could see the dim outline of the cars in their spaces and the traffic lights on the road. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no-one standing outside the building. Everything was as it should be at six in the morning. So where was that voice coming from?

Taylor.

What if they were in the flat? Adrenaline pumped through me as I found myself in the unusual position of sneaking through my boyfriend’s flat at a ridiculous time, looking for the source of someone whispering my name, with no weapon. My life really was strange. What if there genuinely was someone in the flat? What would I do then, if I was totally defenceless?

Taylor.

I slipped into the living room, my breath hitching in my chest. My body began to tremble as I carefully placed my feet on the carpet, avoiding any creaky patches of floor. I rounded the corner into the living room, holding my breath, my arms raised in case I had to throw a punch.

It was empty.

“I’m going mad,” I whispered, sinking to the floor, wrapping my arms around my stomach and rocking backwards and forwards. “I’m completely out of my mind. No. Stop it, Tay. Just breathe.”

I took five deep breaths, feeling calm rush into me. So the voice wasn’t someone in the flat. And it wasn’t someone outside the building. I refused to believe that it was in my head. I was not going mad. So what?

Walking to the door, I checked the peephole. There was no-one there.

Taylor.

“What do you want from me?” I whispered, my voice cracking under the strain of holding back the panicked tears that threatened to flow down my cheeks. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t. “Have I not given enough? I have lost everything. My life, my friends, my family. Is that not enough for you? What more can I give? What do you want from me? What else do I have left for you to take? How is this new life meant to be better? Where is your mercy, God? Whatever happened to that?”