Mumbling Nightmares

Chapter 8

I awoke in the late afternoon, the sunlight dancing across my covers; tickling my body with warmth. I opened my eyes, and sat up. I didn't bother to change, slipping on my dressing gown, and going downstairs.

Lockwood was nowhere to be found, and George was asleep, head resting on the surface of his desk. I stalked into the kitchen, and fished a doughnut from the package that rested on the counter. I ate it slowly.

My mind involuntarily drifted elsewhere.

Lockwood. His hand on my cheek the night before. I sighed, fingertips brushing the spot his had brushed. He had been so close. I suddenly realized that being in his arms like I had last night felt... nice. More than nice, maybe. His scent made my knees wobbly, his smiles made my heart pound in my ribcage.

No. I shook the thoughts from my head, taking a large bite from the confection in my hand to drive them away completely. After finishing, I made my way back to my room, and hung my bathrobe up on the hook. I turned the water up to as hot as I could possibly stand, and waited until the bathroom was good and steamy before removing my nightie and slipping into the shower.

As I stood under the scalding water, scrubbing my hair free form oils and grime, my thoughts wandered back. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself no.

I can't.

"What... Am I even feeling?" I murmured, voice muffled by the thrum of the water.

"You love him."

I jumped so hard I knocked my head on the shampoo holder that was clipped to the wall.

"Who's there?!"

"Who else? Don't act like you don't recognize my voice."

The Skull jar. I face palmed at my own stupidity, and then bolted into a strait-backed position.

"How are you in here?" I asked.

"You came in here this morning and took a bath. You just dropped me right here."

My eyes bulged. "Did you see me undress?!"

"Heavens, no. Thank god. I'm still in this blasted backpack. I can't see a thing."

I slumped against the wall, letting the water trace patterns down my torso.

"And to answer your little comment, I say myself Heavens no." I grunted, mocking the ghost's voice.

"Oh, Lucy. So oblivious. To your own emotions, none the less." It jeered.

I slipped down to the floor of the tub, wrapping my arms around my legs. I let the water drip from my bangs, sliding down my nose. Sighing deeply, I stood again, squirting body wash into my palm. I rubbed it into my loofa, and scrubbed my skin until it was pink from the friction and temperature of the shower. After washing my hair one more time, I stepped out, dried, the wrapped myself in a towel.

My room was cold- scratch that - cold was an understatement. It was frigid compared to the warm, steamy air in the bathroom. I shivered slightly, and dropped my towel on my bed, and changed into a fold neck sweater, a skirt, leggings, and wool socks. I combed my wet hair, replaced the towel on the rack in the bathroom, and then moved my backpack to the foot of my bed. I then made my way downstairs.

Lockwood was on the couch, nose buried in a beat up paperback. George was in the kitchen, fixing tea.

I sat down next to Lockwood.

"Are we going to the Cartwright's again tonight?"

He looked up at me, shaking his head. "No. I think we all need proper sleep."